Category: English

While my boyfriend was cooking dinner, a female colleague texted him. “Miss you.” I thought for a moment, then replied for him. “Come over. She’s not home.” 1 It was a rare weekend where Liam wasn’t working overtime. I had begged him for ages before he finally agreed to make his signature sweet and sour ribs. While he was busy in the kitchen, his phone on the coffee table buzzed. I tapped the screen to wake it, but the display was dark from the angle. I looked closer. He had put on a privacy screen protector. A bad feeling immediately settled in my stomach. I suddenly remembered what a coworker had once told me: “When your partner starts using a privacy screen behind your back, it means they have secrets.” That sentence dug into my heart like a thorn. I tried to tell myself it was just a coincidence, but doubt grew like weeds in my mind. Luckily, he hadn’t changed his passcode yet. I unlocked the phone. A new WeChat message popped up from a name I didn’t recognize. The message was simple and direct. “Miss you.” My heart clenched, my eyes locked on those two words. I scrolled up, but the chat history was empty. Deleted. But those two simple words were enough to twist a knife in my gut. I tried to calm down, accidentally knocking over a glass of water on the table. Liam poked his head out of the kitchen, spatula in hand. “What happened?” I forced a smile, slipping his phone into my pocket. “Nothing. Just wanted to see how it’s going.” “Not fast enough,” he complained, frowning. “Getting the caramelization right is a pain. Next time, let’s just order takeout.” I froze for a second, then nodded. “Okay.” Liam seemed to have forgotten. I’m from the North; I don’t have a sweet tooth. The person who loves sweet and sour ribs is him. When we first bought this house, he pointed to the kitchen, his eyes shining with confidence and excitement. “This is my domain! No entry without my permission!” Every weekend, he would stay in, tinkering in the kitchen with recipes tailored just for me. Back then, he loved this home. He loved creating memories with me. The phone in my pocket felt like it weighed a ton, burning against my leg. Once my heart rate settled, I decided to reply for him. “Come over. She’s not home.” I was curious who she was. And I was curious how Liam would react. Not long after, the doorbell rang, sharp and piercing. I quickly changed my clothes and walked to the door. My hand hesitated on the cold metal handle for a moment before I pulled it open. The person outside clearly paused. The excitement on her face froze the moment she saw me. I looked her over. From her age to her face to her figure, I couldn’t help comparing every detail to myself. The conclusion was brutal—she beat me in every category. “You’re Chloe, right?” “You know me?” “Liam mentioned you.” The thought that my name might be a topic of their amusement made my disappointment in Liam deepen. She seemed to remember something, reaching into her bag to pull out a familiar Tupperware container. “I came to return this.” “Last time Liam brought ribs to the office, my blood sugar dropped suddenly, so he let me have them.” Looking at her clutching the container Liam and I had bought together at Target, I remembered his impatience this morning when I asked him to cook. My anger ignited instantly. I deliberately shouted toward the kitchen, “Honey, someone’s here for you!” Liam walked out, wiping his hands, looking confused. When he saw her, his face went blank. I watched them closely. There wasn’t the panic or guilt I expected. “What are you doing here?” Liam asked, puzzled. “I was in the neighborhood and remembered I still had your container, so I texted you.” “Texted me?” Liam suddenly realized something, glancing back at me before his face went cold. “Just leave the container.” But she didn’t leave immediately. She stood in the doorway, staring straight at me. “Miss Chloe, aren’t you going to invite me in?” I let out a cold laugh, stepping aside but keeping my eyes on Liam. “Well? Aren’t you going to invite her in? Perfect timing, we made sweet and sour ribs again today.” I emphasized “sweet and sour ribs.” Liam’s expression shifted. “Stop it.” Sensing Liam’s displeasure, she slowly replied. “Oh, I just remembered I have plans nearby. I got so excited I forgot. I’ll come hang out next time.” I didn’t say another word, just watched coldly as Liam walked her out. When he came back, his face was dark enough to drip ink. “What, couldn’t bear to let her go?” I leaned against the doorframe, mocking him. Liam glared at me angrily. “Don’t talk nonsense. She’s just a colleague.” I wasn’t letting him off that easy. “Colleague? Then what does ‘Miss you’ mean?” Liam looked exhausted. “We’ve been working on a project together. High pressure. We just joke around to relieve stress.” I didn’t believe a word of his bullshit. We had a huge fight. Since then, things between us have been incredibly tense. I started wondering if I was too impulsive, but then I’d remember how weak his excuse was. Living like this was suffocating. 2 I told my best friend, Jasmine, about my suspicions. She laughed for a solid minute. After my parents died in an accident, she and Liam became the most important people in my world. “You’re crazy,” she said. “Back in college, Liam bought boba for our entire dorm for a whole semester just to chase you. Remember when campus didn’t have a KFC? He took a bus for over an hour to bring it back for you, and he wouldn’t even eat a single fry because he wanted you to have them all.” I laughed bitterly. “Really? I forgot.” Jasmine talked excitedly about Liam’s courtship back in the day, but it felt so distant to me. Yeah, it’s been 10 years. I’m turning 28 in two months. Before she left, Jasmine gave me some serious advice. “Chloe, have a good talk with Liam. Set a date for the wedding soon.” “Don’t let things drag on and get messy.” Neither of us wanted to dig deeper. The sunk cost of a ten-year relationship was something I couldn’t afford to lose. That night, I texted Liam a photo of myself wearing black silk stockings. In the past, he would’ve replied instantly with something cheeky like, “Hubby is coming home right now, just wait a bit longer.” But today, he replied three hours later: “Working overtime.” I closed WeChat and opened Discord. I searched for his status. “Online – Mobile.” He wasn’t working. By the time I realized it, I had chewed my nails down to the quick. After my parents died, I developed a habit of biting my nails when anxious. Liam used to feel bad for me, saying he’d help me quit. He even painted bitter nail polish on with me. But now… A wave of irritation hit me. I almost didn’t reply, but I remembered Jasmine’s words. I typed again. “It’s okay. I’ll wait up for you.” This time, he didn’t reply at all. 3 I sat in the most visible spot in the living room. I had changed out of the tight stockings into loose pajamas, but I couldn’t hide my anxiety. The clock on the wall showed 1:00 AM. I held the photo album Liam made for me in college, lost in thought. When exactly did we go from inseparable lovers to roommates who barely saw each other? “Door unlocked. Welcome home.” The mechanical voice of the smart lock broke the silence and sparked a faint hope in my chest. I looked up sharply, trying to catch his figure in the dim light. Liam stood in the doorway for a long time before stepping inside. But the moment our eyes met, he looked away. That instant evasion hurt more than any words could. It made me feel a despair I’d never known. He stood in the entryway and suddenly snapped. “Can you stop leaving your shoes everywhere?” I froze, about to go tidy them, but he kicked my heels aside without mercy. There was a time when he would neatly arrange my shoes, charge my electric toothbrush, and pack away my seasonal clothes before I even thought of it. Now, those memories felt like a different life. I watched Liam walk out of the kitchen with a glass of water, identical to the one in front of me. Except his was brand new. He sat at the dining table and poured himself a drink. I stared at the glass, remembering our old habit of sharing one. I felt a sudden wave of grievance. “Why don’t you use the same cup as me anymore?” “No reason.” He was impatient, turning slightly to scroll on his phone with his back to me. I didn’t want the cold war to continue. I gathered my courage and hugged him from behind. “What are you doing!” He shook me off like I was a virus. I stared at the red mark on my wrist, my heart shattering. “Today is our 10th anniversary.” My voice trembled with despair and pleading. Liam froze. A flash of guilt crossed his eyes. But it only lasted a few seconds before cold indifference replaced it. “Send me a link for whatever gift you want. I’ll buy it tomorrow.” His tone was flat, like he was discussing a business transaction. “Tomorrow it won’t matter anymore.” I looked up at him, trying to use the cuteness he used to love. He once said he loved when I puffed my cheeks out when I was mad, like a pufferfish. But now, his eyes were colder than ice, looking at me like a stranger. “Chloe.” He said my full name. My heart dropped. Using my full name meant the invisible wall between us just got thicker. “Stop it.” Two words. Freezing cold. “We’re 28, not kids. Life isn’t built on anniversaries.” My heart contracted painfully. The man in front of me—suit-clad, mature, steady—was nothing like the boy in the white shirt smiling in the sun. I stared at him, searching for a trace of the past, but found only distance. Finally, I gave up arguing. I whispered, “Yeah, I’m 28.” He seemed to guess what I was going to say and cut me off. “You know my career is in a weird spot right now. I don’t want to get married yet…” Liam was about to say more, but his phone rang at the worst possible moment. He glanced at me and quickly silenced it. My heart sank, but I forced myself to stay calm, even adding a hint of pleading to my voice. “Then… when do you want to get married?” 4 He didn’t give me a straight answer. And he didn’t tell me to keep waiting. Instead— “If being with me makes you feel wronged, then…” “Then break up with you? So I’m the bad guy now?” The words tumbled out, and we both froze. Finally, Liam broke the silence. “I don’t deserve you.” I exploded. The emotions I’d been suppressing all night peaked. “Now you don’t deserve me? When you were chasing me with marching bands and banners, you didn’t think that?” Liam’s face turned livid. His lips moved like he wanted to speak, but he gave up. Just like our relationship—he didn’t even want to try to save it. I watched him walk toward the guest bedroom with a dark face, saying nothing. Until he twisted the handle and couldn’t open the door. He turned back and yelled at me. “Chloe! Can you stop causing drama! Open the door!” I kept my face cold, suppressing the disappointment churning inside me. “I told you to change that lock ages ago. The balcony window was open today, the wind slammed it shut. I can’t open it either.” He instinctively looked toward the balcony, as if to verify my story. The atmosphere grew heavier, the air suffocating. Until he broke the silence again. “Then I’ll go to a hotel.” My rationality snapped. I stood up abruptly, my voice sharp. “What, this huge house isn’t big enough for you? Or are you just done pretending?” Liam’s face looked ugly. Shock flashed in his eyes. He had never seen me lose control like this. He was speechless. “If anyone’s going to a hotel, it should be me. You bought this house. I can’t kick you out.” I kept shouting, as if making him uncomfortable would make me feel better. Or maybe, deep down, I hoped that making a scene would force him to care about my feelings again. “Chloe, you’re always like this. You never consider how others feel when you speak or act.” “What do you mean?” I widened my eyes like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “What do I mean? You invited my colleague over last week on purpose. Did you think about how awkward it would be for me at work?” “Awkward? How so? She sent you a text saying ‘Miss you,’ and I’m not allowed to bring it up?” “I don’t want to explain anymore. Think what you want.” He shut down completely, ignoring my anger and anxiety. He turned and walked toward the door without looking back. At the threshold, he stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Chloe, if you really think we can’t go on, let’s just let it go.” I stiffened my neck and didn’t answer. My chest felt like it was going to explode. At that moment, I knew for sure. Liam didn’t love me anymore.

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The billionaire scion of New York, Julian Blackwood, famously despised gold diggers. Unfortunately, I was one. When I found out about his little pet peeve, I asked him casually, “Julian, what would you do if someone got close to you just for your money?” He didn’t even look up from his phone. “Kill them.” Me: ? Excuse me? Since when were you a psycho? That was a dealbreaker. I was here for the bag, not a body bag. I packed my valuables and ran away overnight. I left a note: [Not gonna bother you anymore. I’m leaving. Hope you find someone who loves you for you, not your wallet.] Three days later, I was haggling at a pawn shop over my designer bags when a black Centurion card slammed onto the counter. The man standing there had red-rimmed eyes. “Babe,” he rasped, “take all my money. Just bother me for the rest of your life, okay?” 1 “Babe, what are you looking at?” Julian had a networking dinner tonight and didn’t get back until nearly eleven. The scent of expensive scotch clung to him, making me wrinkle my nose. I pushed him toward the bathroom. “Don’t kiss me until you scrub that smell off!” He laughed and scooped me up bridal style, carrying me into the bathroom with him. Steam filled the room, fogging up the mirrors. His hand reached for the strap of my silk nightgown. “Let’s shower together.” “No,” I refused. He insisted. Riiip— The ridiculously expensive, easily-torn nightgown Julian had picked out split in two. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Babe…” I kept my face deadpan. “I said no. I already showered before you got home. Washing twice is bad for my skin.” I pulled the tattered silk around me and shoved him back into the shower, closing the glass door. “Stop ripping my clothes! They’re expensive!” Seriously! Just take it off normally! That was the third one this week. Spendthrift! The water ran loudly; Julian was clearly speed-running his shower. I lay on the bed, scrolling through my phone. A WeChat notification popped up from my best friend, Sarah. Sarah: [Look at this link] It was an article titled: [Deep Dive into the Secret Lives of the Elite!] I sent back a question mark and clicked it. I skimmed through the usual gossip about famous socialites until my eyes snagged on a specific paragraph. [Julian Blackwood, heir to the Blackwood empire, reportedly has zero tolerance for gold diggers. Rumor has it he once…] Sarah sent a screenshot of that exact section. Sarah: [Babe, is this true?] Me: [Idk? Probably fake news?] Sarah: [A lot of the other stuff in here is verified. Maybe you should test him?] I hesitated, switching back to the article to read the rest, when a hot, damp chest pressed against my back. “Babe, is your phone more interesting than me?” Guilty as charged, I swiped the page away instantly. “What?” Julian turned my head, gripping my chin. “Wearing this just to tease me, huh?” His voice pitched up at the end, dangerously seductive. I put on my best doe-eyed look. “I would never.” My finger traced his jawline. “But… I’m desperate. My mother is in the hospital…” I closed my eyes, channeling my inner tragic heroine. “Mr. Blackwood, if you give me fifty thousand—no, ten thousand is fine—I’m yours tonight.” He bit my earlobe. “Tonight, you entertain me.” 2 Entertain him? I was the one who needed saving. I kicked him. “I’m tired.” He caught my ankle and hooked it over his shoulder. “You rest, babe. I’ll do the work.” Rest my ass! By the end, I couldn’t even lift my arms. Julian cuddled me, whispering sweet nothings until I was dozing off. He carried me to the sink to wash up. Through half-lidded eyes, I saw him kiss my forehead in the dim light, like I was something sacred. “I love you, babe.” Maybe it was the roleplay earlier, or the article, but I mumbled, “If a woman got close to you for money, what would you do?” He was rummaging for a fresh nightgown. Without missing a beat, he said, “Make them disappear.” I froze, sleep vanishing. “What?” He pulled the silk over my head. “Kill them.” He kissed my lips, satisfied. “Okay, sleep now.” He pressed my head to his chest and said goodnight. But I was wide awake. Crap. I was the woman who got close to him for money. Since when was he a murderer?! 3 I came from a broken home. Gambling addict dad, day-trading mom. I was an only child. They lived in their own worlds, barely noticing me. Luckily, when I was small, they were rich. A rich neglectful childhood isn’t the worst thing. But in middle school, the market crashed, and dad’s luck ran out. They sold everything. The house filled with screaming matches. I went from a princess to a pauper overnight. That poverty lasted until college. Not because they bounced back, but because one night, during a fight, a lit cigarette met a spilled bottle of vodka. The fire took them both. My terrible family turned to ash. They left me nothing but debt. Loan sharks, credit card debt—they had borrowed from everyone. After they missed payments, collectors blocked my dorm room door, threatening me. They doxxed me online. It was hell. I couldn’t work; I couldn’t make money. They pushed me to the edge. I was ready to end it. Then I looked in the mirror. Young. Beautiful. It was the only inheritance my parents left me. Aside from them, the world was beautiful. I wanted to live. At any cost. Truth be told, I got with Julian for the money. If he were broke, I wouldn’t have looked twice. And now Julian says he hates gold diggers. He hates me. I peeked at him. He was asleep. I traced his face, inch by inch. “Julian…” His eyes snapped open. He grabbed my wrist. “Babe, thought you were tired? Still got energy?” He flipped me over. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Tired! Tired! I’m sleeping!” 4 Morning. I said goodbye to Julian and burrowed back into the blankets. He tucked me in, chuckling. “Lazybones.” I threw a pillow at him. “You have the nerve? Who made me this tired?!” He was an energy vampire. It was 8 AM. I went to sleep at 3 AM! Why doesn’t he reflect on his actions?! Julian kissed me. “My bad. Next time we’ll start earlier.” Me: ? Can we just cancel the event entirely? He knew he was pushing it, so he ruffled my hair and fled. I slept until noon. When I woke up, my phone was blowing up. I replied to Julian’s “good morning” text first, then checked the rest. Sarah had sent a wall of text. [Did you test him?] [What did he say?] [Why aren’t you replying?] [???] [Hello?] [Did the test turn into sex?] [Okay, confirmed. That’s what happened.] [Whatever, reply when you wake up tomorrow.] [Actually, you might not wake up. Reply tomorrow afternoon.] Me: … Speechless. I replied: [1] (Acknowledged). Sarah was probably still asleep. I rubbed my chin, thinking. I didn’t really “test” him. I just asked. And Julian gave me an honest answer. He really hates gold diggers. I sighed. I’m screwed. If he finds out… I’m dead. For him, it’s not a question of can he do it, but does he want to. And honestly… I felt guilty. If he didn’t love me, it would be fine. A transaction. I provide emotional value, he provides cash. But Julian loved me. And I treated him like an ATM. What’s the saying? Mixing sincerity with lies is like mixing chocolate with sh*t. If I were him, I’d hate me too. He’d destroy me. The more I thought about it, the colder I felt. I have to run. Run fast. Before he figures it out. I packed immediately. I kept the sentimental stuff, the specific gifts. But Julian gave me a lot. Random gifts, PR packages sent to him. I sorted through it all. I could sell a lot of this. I spent the day packing. When I was done, I clapped the dust off my hands and waited for Julian. 5 Feeling guilty, I went to the supermarket and bought a feast. I cooked a full meal. Julian walked in just as I was plating the sweet and sour ribs. He hugged me from behind. “Babe, you cooked?” I slapped his hand. “Wash up. Dinner time.” He ignored me, turning my face for a kiss. I let him. I was compliant now. I wrapped my arms around his neck, panting. “Eat first.” He nibbled my lip. “Don’t want food. Want you.” I didn’t want to waste my effort. “I spent three hours on this. Eat!” He put me down obediently. We washed our hands together. He kissed my cheek. “Babe cooked for me. I’m the luckiest man alive.” He was so easy to please. My guilt spiked.

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1 I was scrolling through Instagram when I stumbled upon a post from an actress in my husband’s latest film. It was a photo dump from the wrap party. [Thanks for the amazing wrap gift, Nathaniel!] The last photo in the carousel was a close-up of a perfume bottle on her makeup vanity. A silver bottle, engraved with my initials. I deliberately liked the post, then immediately called my private doctor. “I need to change my prenatal appointment to a termination.” Next, I posted an Instagram story, visible only to my Close Friends list. The first slide was a picture of my signature on the procedure’s consent form. The second was the cover of a set of divorce papers. The caption read: [Ten years ends today.] … “Aurora!” The anesthesia was just wearing off when I saw Nathaniel standing in the doorway of my hospital room, his face a mask of cold fury. He was clutching his phone, the screen displaying a screenshot of my Instagram story. “We’ve been trying for a baby for two years. We’ve seen every specialist, tried every treatment, and we finally get pregnant! And you throw it all away because of a bottle of perfume?” He strode to my bedside, his finger practically jabbing me in the face. “And this garbage you posted! Are you not happy unless you’re making a public spectacle of our lives?” My body felt weak, and a dull ache throbbed in my lower abdomen, but I managed to push myself up to a sitting position. I looked at him calmly. “Did you sign them?” “What?” “The divorce papers.” I nodded toward the folder on the nightstand. “They were delivered to your studio three days ago.” “Nathaniel,” I said, my voice flat. “There’s a line of women from here to Paris who would kill to have your child. You can drop the act with me.” That remark shattered his composure. He swept the nutritional meal a nurse had just brought in off the table. The rich chicken broth splashed across the floor. “Aurora! What the hell is this really about? Is it just about some stupid bottle of perfume? Isabelle mentioned she liked the scent, so I gave it to her! It was nothing! Is that really a reason to kill our baby and demand a divorce?” “I gave it to her.” He said it so casually. I looked at him, and my mind flashed back ten years. I had just finished my first role with actual lines. The paycheck was a measly eight hundred dollars. To celebrate, I spent an entire afternoon at a high-end boutique, and finally, using half of my living expenses for the month, I bought a limited-edition bottle of ‘Silver Iris.’ That night, I carefully spritzed it onto a tester strip and posted a picture of it online. “My very first perfume, to commemorate my very first role.” Three minutes later, my phone rang. It was Nathaniel. “Aurora, you bought perfume?” The disapproval in his voice was so thick I could feel it through the phone. “That ‘Silver Iris’? It’s over three thousand dollars a bottle. Do you have any idea how much I’m spending right now trying to land that supporting role in the new Pierce film? I need every cent for networking.” His words stunned me. The hand holding the tester strip began to tremble. “I… I used my own savings. And I already set aside my living expenses for the month…” “You set them aside?” Nathaniel scoffed. “Aurora, can you stop being so vain? Are you going to eat that perfume? Or do you think that just because you’re with me now, you can start throwing money around?” The call lasted twenty minutes. I sat there, the phone hot against my ear, watching the scent on the paper slowly fade, and then I deleted the post. In the ten years since, Nathaniel’s pay went from five thousand an episode to thirty million a film. He bought me bags, watches, and jewelry, but never again did he buy me perfume. Once, at a brand event, the organizers gifted us a full set of their new fragrances. I picked one up and lingered on it for a moment too long. On the car ride home, Nathaniel spoke, his voice cool and distant. “Some people haven’t landed many roles, but they sure have developed expensive tastes. What is it now? Starting a collection?” I quietly put the bottle down. From that day on, I never mentioned anything related to fragrance in public again. I told myself he just didn’t care for perfume. That he was just blunt. That he just wasn’t… thoughtful. Until I saw that bottle of Silver Iris in Isabelle’s Instagram post. It was sitting carelessly in the corner of her vanity, next to lipsticks and compacts, like any other ordinary object. And in the background of the photo, Nathaniel was leaning in, speaking to her, a gentle, tender smile on his face that felt like a knife in my gut. In that single moment, a decade of self-deception crumbled into dust. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable of it. It was just that his thoughtfulness, his indulgence… it was never meant for me. “Just because of a bottle of perfume?” Nathaniel looked at me as if I’d told the world’s most pathetic joke, his expression twisting. “Aurora, Isabelle is new to the industry. The director was tearing her apart on set every day. I just felt sorry for her and gave her a small gift as encouragement! And you’re going to get an abortion and divorce me over something so trivial?” “Are your pregnancy hormones messing with your head? Are you thinking clearly?” He paused, then a look of dawning comprehension spread across his face, his lips curling into a sneer. “Oh, I get it.” “You’re just using this as an excuse. This is your revenge for me calling you vain all those years ago, isn’t it?” “Wow, Aurora. Ten years, and you’re still holding a grudge.” He let out a short, sharp laugh. 2 “Fine. You want perfume? Is that it? How many do you want? I’ll have them clear out the entire boutique and deliver it to you right now.” “Yes,” I said, looking straight at him. The numb space in my chest suddenly erupted with a sharp, stabbing pain, but my voice was unnervingly calm. “It is because of a bottle of perfume. Exactly that.” “So what, Nathaniel? For one bottle of perfume, I will get rid of your child and I will divorce you.” “You’re being completely irrational!” Nathaniel slammed the door on his way out. Three hours later, my hospital room was filled with perfume gift boxes. A delivery man, sweating profusely, was trying to take inventory. “Ma’am, a Mr. Knight ordered every bottle of Silver Iris from every boutique in the city. It’s one hundred and twenty-seven bottles in total. Where would you like them?” I signed the delivery slip and stared at the mountain of exquisite boxes filling the room. My phone buzzed. A message from Nathaniel popped up: [Is that enough for you?] I could picture the look on his face as he sent it—brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, radiating an air of impatient charity. I didn’t reply. I just blocked his number. The validation and respect I had craved for a decade had finally arrived, piled up in this absurd, insulting fashion. It was nothing short of a mockery. I called my best friend, Zoe. Her voice on the other end was hushed. “Aurora? I’m in the middle of a shoot. What’s up?” “Zoe,” I said, looking out the window. “Last year, you said that if I ever left Nathaniel, you’d take me to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. Does that offer still stand?” There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. “Are you serious? You’re really leaving him?” “Aurora, Nathaniel is at the top of his game. He has all the connections, all the resources. If you leave now, you’re throwing away ten years of struggle. You’re just going to hand it all over to the next girl who comes along.” Zoe was the one who told me not to get involved with Nathaniel in the first place. And now, she was the one worried I’d get the short end of the stick. I smiled softly. “Since I’ve decided to leave, it means I’ve already let it all go.” “Alright then,” Zoe’s voice firmed up. “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll go.” “Soon.” After hanging up, I went home and took my documents from the nightstand. Just as I opened the safe, I heard the front door open. A final text from Zoe came through: [Once he signs, we’re gone.] Liquidating stocks, dividing property. Even if I had to start from scratch, I wouldn’t starve. I picked up my suitcase and walked into the living room, only to find an unexpected visitor. Isabelle, dressed in a delicate white dress, stood timidly beside Nathaniel, her fingers clutching the cuff of his sleeve. She took a tentative step forward as if it took all her courage. “Aurora… I’m so sorry.” Her voice was thick with tears, her wide, innocent eyes glistening. “I didn’t mean to show off by posting that. I was just so happy… Nathaniel has been so kind to me, teaching me how to act, giving me gifts… I just got carried away and I made you upset. Please don’t be angry…” Isabelle suddenly bowed deeply, her shoulders trembling. “Please don’t divorce him. Nathaniel really, really loves you. It’s all my fault…” She wept beautifully, as if she were the victim of some terrible injustice. I took a step back, avoiding her bow, and lifted my eyes to Nathaniel. He was looking down at Isabelle, and the look in his eyes—a sort of pained, restrained tenderness—was something I had never seen in ten years. Suddenly, the whole thing just felt pathetic. “What exactly are you sorry for?” I asked calmly. I wasn’t going to be painted as the villain. I had no desire to see the headline #AuroraHayesBulliesNewcomer trending tomorrow. So I was direct. “This grand gesture of yours,” I said, gesturing to her bow, “is it a genuine attempt to save my marriage, or is it an act to pressure me into letting go for good?” “We’re both women. We both know how these games are played. There’s no need to put on a show for me.” “I’ve already decided to get a divorce.” I turned to Nathaniel, meeting his stunned gaze. “And my mind won’t be changed by someone’s tears or apologies. You, of all people, should know that about me, right?” Nathaniel’s face darkened. But Isabelle suddenly rushed forward and grabbed my wrist. “Aurora! Everyone on set is saying you got jealous because of my post, that you got an abortion and are filing for divorce just to put me in my place, to show Nathaniel who’s really in charge! I don’t believe them. I know you’re not that kind of person…” I had thought Isabelle was just a moderately ambitious newcomer. Clearly, I had underestimated her. Every word she spoke was a carefully crafted nail in the coffin of my reputation, sealing the image of me as a jealous, petty bully. As expected, Nathaniel stepped forward, his eyes flashing with anger. “That’s enough, Aurora!” “Isabelle is apologizing to you like this, and you’re still cornering her. Don’t you think you’re going too far?” I looked at Nathaniel, at the face I had loved for a decade. There was a time when I believed that wherever he stood, there was light. I had willingly softened every edge, lowered every standard for him. Looking at him now, he was just another selfish, hypocritical man. 3 I pulled my wrist from Isabelle’s grasp, took the divorce papers from my bag, and spread them on the coffee table. “If you really want to protect her, then act like a man. Sign the papers and let’s get divorced. Don’t stand here gaslighting me about bullying a newcomer.” I shot a cold glance at Isabelle, who was now hiding behind Nathaniel, sobbing. “Ambition is a good thing. Since your ambition has brought you this far, you might as well go all the way and win the man.” My tone was so calm that a flicker of panic crossed Nathaniel’s eyes, but his words remained defiant. “You’re being completely unreasonable!” “Am I? Don’t you know the truth?” My gaze fell to the hand he was using to shield Isabelle. “You know better than anyone that I can’t tolerate filth in my life.” “When something gets dirty, I throw it out.” I held out a pen to him. “If you want to retain any shred of my respect, sign it.” I had chased after Nathaniel for ten years. A decade ago, my parents died in a case of medical malpractice. It was Nathaniel who ran from hospital to hospital with me, who met with lawyer after lawyer, who grabbed the attending physician by the collar and demanded answers. But halfway through the lawsuit, the hospital produced evidence that my father had an undisclosed medical history and that my mother had been disoriented when she signed the consent forms. My lawyer advised me to accept a settlement. I refused. I stood outside the courthouse and cried until I nearly passed out. It was Nathaniel who picked me up and whispered in my ear: “Aurora, you are not alone.” “I’m here. If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up with you.” In the end, I signed the settlement. I took the compensation money, along with the money from selling my parents’ house, and gave it all to Nathaniel for acting classes, for networking, for landing roles. My friends all called me a fool. They said a woman who spends money on a man is cursed for three lifetimes. But I held Nathaniel’s hand and said, “To spend it on Nathaniel, I’d be cursed for ten.” Nathaniel cupped my face in his hands and made a solemn promise: “Aurora, I will never make you regret this.” Ten long years. We went from a basement apartment to a penthouse in the city center, from unknown extras to him holding a Best Actor award. Every step was a struggle. But Nathaniel’s tenderness, it seemed, had only existed in those few short months after my parents died. Nathaniel looked at my resolute face, and a powerful sense of unease washed over him. He instinctively reached for me, but was interrupted by Isabelle’s sobs. “Aurora,” Isabelle said, her eyes red, but her voice surprisingly clear. “You can call me a homewrecker. You can call me shameless. I’ll accept it all.” The fragile, helpless girl from moments ago was gone. She now looked me straight in the eye. “I have feelings for Nathaniel. Anyone would be drawn to a man as wonderful as he is. My feelings are honest and out in the open. But unlike you, I would never use his love for me as a weapon to act so recklessly.” “Everyone knows he’s spoiled you for ten years, and you repay him by getting rid of his child? That’s just cruel.” Her words extinguished the last flicker of hesitation and pity in Nathaniel’s eyes. “Aurora, are you sure you want this divorce?” The person who knows how to hurt you the most always knows exactly where to twist the knife. “Don’t forget,” Nathaniel said, pouring salt on my oldest wound, “you don’t have a family anymore.” “I am the only family you have left.” “If you leave me, you will be completely and utterly alone in this world.” I have a deep-seated fear of people talking about my parents, of the vicious whispers that I was a jinx, that I was cursed to bring ruin to my loved ones. It was Nathaniel who used to stand in front of me, throwing punches at anyone who dared to gossip. It was him who held me tight during countless nights when I broke down, whispering: “You are not a jinx. You are my destiny. I will love you enough for your parents too. I will never change.” Now, that same man looked at me with cold eyes. “There’s no smoke without fire. With a personality like yours, who could possibly stand you?” “No wonder your parents left so early.” That sentence shattered my last line of defense. I slapped him, hard, across the face. “You bastard!” My vision blurred. The pain in my chest was so intense it felt like my heart was splitting in two. I had scrimped and saved, passed up every opportunity and connection for him, stood by him through years of obscurity, only to be called a jinx in the end. How could I not break? How could I not be devastated? He stared at me for a few seconds, then a slow, cruel smile spread across his face. “Fine, Aurora. You’ve really outdone yourself.” “You want a divorce, right?” Nathaniel snatched the pen and scribbled his name on the agreement. “Then let’s get one!” “And don’t you dare come crawling back to me!” He threw the signed papers in my face, then turned, grabbed Isabelle’s arm, and stormed out. I bent down to pick up the scattered pages and let out a soft, broken laugh. “Nathaniel, this time, it’s really over.” As I boarded the plane, my screen lit up. A series of calls from Nathaniel’s different numbers. I looked at it for a moment, then switched my phone off. Goodbye. 4 Thinking I was just throwing a tantrum, Nathaniel booked out the city’s largest luxury perfume boutique. Isabelle posted another nine-photo carousel on Instagram. In the photos, she was smiling radiantly, a wall of perfume displays behind her. The caption read: [Some people are just born unworthy of the best. They only deserve secondhand things.] Nathaniel had always been the one in control. In our relationship, all he had to do was be himself. I would automatically fill in the gaps, make the excuses. Just like ten years ago. Even though he knew I just wanted to commemorate my first role, even though he knew I bought that perfume with my own money. He still had to crush my spirit. At my moment of greatest happiness, he had to put me in my place, to remind me: “You are not worthy.” He needed to call me vain, to watch me feel guilty, to wait for me to apologize. In the beginning, our friends warned him to back off, not to push me too far. But over time, he became known in our circle as a master at managing his wife. At dinners, men would ask him for his secret to keeping a woman so devoted. He would take a sip of his wine and smile coolly. “Give her a taste of sweetness at her moment of deepest despair, and she will see you as her savior. After that, no matter what you do wrong, she will find a way to forgive you on her own.” Nathaniel was no fool when it came to people. He had spent his life reading others, and he knew exactly how to exploit a person’s vulnerabilities. He had practiced on me for a decade. And it had worked. So he watched Isabelle’s post go live, watched the likes and comments roll in, knowing he didn’t have to lift a finger. Mutual friends would soon be calling me, acting as his messengers. All he had to do was wait for me to come to him, head bowed in apology. And so he waited. Nathaniel waited for two weeks. He didn’t get my apology. Instead, he got a letter from my lawyer. “Mr. Knight.” My attorney sat across from him, pushing a folder across the table. “This is the share transfer agreement Ms. Hayes has asked me to handle. She is requesting to purchase your 35% stake in the studio at market value. If we do not receive a response within one week, we will file a motion with the court to compel the sale.” Nathaniel stared at the documents, his fingers tightening into a fist. “Where is she?” “Ms. Hayes has gone abroad to clear her head.” The lawyer smiled politely. “As for her destination, I’m afraid I can’t disclose that.” “Clear her head?” Nathaniel shot to his feet. “She just had a termination two weeks ago, and she’s flying abroad to ‘clear her head’? Is she trying to kill herself?”

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Two months into my successful online relationship, I finally decided to get serious about fitness. As I sat there, a series of comments suddenly flashed across my vision like a live-stream chat: 【Wait, what’s happening? Why is the filler girl starting a diet? If she actually gets thin, how is our Main Girl supposed to take her place next to the hero?】 【Don’t worry, she’s got zero self-esteem. Our beautiful Lead just needs to mock her a few times and she’ll quit. She never actually succeeds.】 【Am I the only one who thinks the Lead is kind of a snake? I mean, the filler girl edited her photos to look thinner, but those are still her photos. The Lead is out here lying, saying she’s the girl in the pictures and framing her roommate for catfishing.】 【Honestly, Riley’s got great bone structure. If she actually lost the weight, she’d be a total high-fashion goddess.】 【What are the people above me talking about? Riley is 5’6″ and 150 pounds—she’s a whale. How does she have the nerve to date a guy like Liam? He’s a billionaire’s son with model looks. She’s delusional.】 I froze. The next second, my roommate pulled back her bed curtain, her face mask glistening under the dorm lights. She glanced at my desk. “Whoa, Riley! A garden salad for dinner? Again?” Chloe gave me a pitying smile. “I get it, you’re trying to lose weight. But with your ‘large frame,’ you’re never going to look right thin. Why put yourself through the torture?” 1 Chloe looked me up and down. Her voice was light, but her eyes were cold. If this were the old Riley, I would have turned beet-red. I would have hidden my salad like a criminal and stuttered an explanation about how I wasn’t really trying that hard. I’d felt it before—this subtle malice from her. Whenever I mentioned the gym, she’d complain about being “too skinny.” If I skipped a late-night pizza run, she’d announce to the whole study hall, “Riley, are you seriously not eating anything today? Dieting looks so exhausting!” I used to dismiss it. Chloe was the campus “It Girl.” Why would she be jealous of me? Until now. The chat in front of my eyes started scrolling again: 【LMAO, I love it when the Lead is being a little bit of a mean girl. It’s cute.】 【She’s doing it on purpose. She knows the other roommates called Riley ‘cute’ once, and Chloe’s ego couldn’t handle it. She’s been gaslighting her ever since.】 【Our girl is just a protective little cat. She’s about to go do her skincare routine and meet the Male Lead. His love is going to give her all the security she needs!】 I clenched my fists. I looked Chloe dead in the eyes. For the first time, I didn’t back down. “Maybe,” I said, my voice steady. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll surprise myself.” 2 The air in the room turned cold. The chat went wild. 【Is she serious? She thinks she can actually be a baddie?】 【Is she trying to pick a fight with our Lead? Is this a ‘Pick-Me’ move??】 I realized then that I was a character in a “Sweet Romance” novel. Chloe was the lead, and I was the “insecure roommate”—the foil. In the original plot, my insecurity led me to send edited photos to my online boyfriend, Liam Sterling. Chloe eventually discovers that my online “Liam” is the billionaire heir and campus king she’s crushed on for two years. Since my edited photos look a bit like Chloe with makeup on, she swoops in. She meets him in person, claims I was the one using her photos, and paints me as a lying thief. Liam blocks me, falls for Chloe, and I transfer schools in shame. Chloe’s smile faltered. She gave me a look that was half-mocking, half-suspicious. “Sure. Good luck with that.” She turned to her vanity and began applying a very specific style of “clean girl” makeup—soft and innocent. She pulled out a white sundress I’d never seen her wear. She looked exactly like the girl in the photos I’d sent to Liam. 3 After Chloe left, I used the info from the chat to look up “Liam Sterling.” He was the second son of the Sterling Group. He kept a low profile, but one of his frat brothers had posted a video where he appeared for a split second. Even in a blurry frame, his jawline was lethal. My phone buzzed. [TurtleGuy99]: You there? [TurtleGuy99]: What are you doing? I miss you. [TurtleGuy99]: Sent you a gift. Check your mail. Hope you like it. He was always so direct. I hesitated. I had to tell him the truth before Chloe got to him. I didn’t care if the “readers” called me a snake. [Me]: Are you free? Let’s meet. [Me]: The coffee shop on 5th and Main. I sat in the coffee shop, heart hammering. Liam hadn’t replied. Had Chloe already found him? The bell chimed. A tall man in a charcoal overcoat walked in. He looked around with cool eyes. When his gaze landed on me, he paused. He walked straight to my table. “…Riley?” I looked up. The jawline matched… but he looked older, sharper. “You’re Liam?” I asked. He hesitated, then pulled out a chair. “…Yes. That’s me.” 4 I was nervous under his gaze. I laid it all out. I told him about the editing, the lies, the insecurity. I didn’t mention Chloe, because I couldn’t explain how I knew her plan. “So… yeah,” I finished, staring at my lap. I waited for the shock. The anger. Silence. I looked up. He was just… staring at me. “Mr. Sterling?” I prompted. He snapped out of it and took a sip of his coffee. “You think you’re overweight? Why?” “I think you’re perfect,” he continued, his voice deep. “You’re actually very cute.” I blinked. What? This wasn’t the reaction from the “novel.” The chat reappeared: 【Riley is so dumb, still waiting for a text. Meanwhile, Liam is literally wrapping his arm around Chloe’s waist at the park. I’m swooning!】 【Chloe is so smart. She ‘accidentally’ tripped into him, and he caught her. Peak romance.】 I looked at the man in front of me. “You’re not Liam, are you?” He froze. He looked at his phone, then back at me. The confusion leaving his face. “I apologize,” he said smoothly. “I’m Liam’s older brother, Julian Sterling.” 5 Julian explained that the family had found out about Liam’s “online fling” weeks ago. “In a family like ours, we don’t exactly encourage digital romances,” Julian said. “I was told to handle it. Liam left his iPad at home today with his accounts synced. I saw your message and decided to see who was on the other end.” “Then why didn’t you tell me immediately?” I asked. Julian looked down. “Honestly? I was stunned. And I didn’t expect my brother to blow you off to meet someone else.” I felt a sting of rejection, but Julian wasn’t done. “Liam is still a kid. Our parents control him. But I’m different.” He looked at me, his ears turning red. “I’m the CEO. I choose who I marry. And honestly? I think I just fell for you at first sight. Could you… consider me instead?” 6 When I got back to the dorm, I was still dazed. Chloe was bragging to our roommates. “Riley, you’re back! I met the most incredible guy today. Rich, handsome, and totally into me.” She was still in that white dress. She looked like the girl in my edited photos. But I wasn’t sad. I just said, “That’s nice, Chloe.” I checked my phone. Liam had finally messaged me. [TurtleGuy99]: Sorry, was busy. Didn’t see the text. [TurtleGuy99]: You working a part-time job? Don’t push yourself. He Venmoed me $20,000. Attached was a high-def selfie. He was handsome, but a completely different type than Julian. [TurtleGuy99]: So you don’t forget what I look like. The chat scrolled by: 【LMAO Liam thinks the Lead is his online girl. He’s giving Riley’s money to Chloe!】 【Oh my god! Liam, you sent it to the wrong person! That’s Chloe’s money now!】 【Don’t worry, they’ll meet tomorrow and the real drama starts.】 I looked at the mention of Julian—the older brother—and my face felt hot. I immediately sent the $20,000 back. [Me]: I’m not broke, and I don’t work part-time. You’ve got the wrong person. For the next few weeks, Chloe went full “innocent girl” mode. I, meanwhile, hit the gym every day. 7 Liam finally asked to meet. [TurtleGuy99]: Let’s meet. For real. 【It’s happening! The moment Liam falls for Chloe!】 【The whale is too scared to go, but Chloe is going to drag her there anyway to show him the difference!】 I replied: “Sure. But let’s make it after winter break.”

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On my wedding day, my childhood sweetheart, Julian, stormed the venue with a rowdy group of his friends, kicking open the chapel doors. He declared he was there to steal the bride and take me away. But we hadn’t even made it to the parking lot before he let go of my hand, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, boys, I win again. That’s the hundredth bet. Pay up.” He turned back to look at me, eyes glinting with mockery. “Relax, I was just joking. You didn’t actually think I was serious, did you? Go on back inside and get married.” Everyone laughed. They all mocked how I had been obsessed with Julian for ten years, how I would do anything for him. But what neither they—nor Julian—knew, was that this “interruption” was just a scripted part of my wedding program. 1 When Julian explained it was just a bet, the crowd had already been laughing for a while. The ridicule was sharp, piercing my eardrums. “Man, Eva, you’re such a liability. Can you use that brain of yours for once?” “It’s hilarious. Did you really hallucinate that Julian would marry you?” This feeling of humiliation was all too familiar. I instinctively clenched the fabric of my wedding dress, my nails digging into my palms. Julian lit a cigarette, a look of disgust flashing in his eyes. “Eva, if you’re thinking about how to cling to me right now, I suggest you give up. I don’t do clingy.” The laughter grew louder, rippling through the group. Usually, at a moment like this, I would have broken down crying, asking Julian why he treated me this way. But this time was different. As soon as Julian finished speaking, I turned around. A strong hand clamped down on my arm. “Where are you going?” “Back to get married.” Julian froze for a second, then let out a scoff. “Eva, when it comes to being pathetic, no one beats you.” I closed my eyes. Even now, that sentence made my heart skip a beat in pain. Yeah. No matter what I do, in Julian’s eyes, I’m just pathetic. Three days before the wedding, I mailed him an invitation. I don’t know who pocket-dialed me, but I heard the bet with my own ears. “Interesting. She’s really going through with it.” Someone asked Julian, “Think it’s real?” Another guy chimed in, “No way. Everyone knows she’s obsessed with Julian. She’s probably just jealous of his new girl and wants attention.” Julian’s new girl was Sasha. Julian really liked her. He chased her for a long time. I heard Sasha pick up the invitation, glance at it, and toss it on the floor, giggling. “She looks cheap. If I were a guy, I wouldn’t look twice.” Amidst the laughter, Julian slammed his drink on the table and asked: “Wanna bet?” “Again? If we win, you break up with Sasha.” Julian’s voice went cold instantly. “Who said you could use Sasha as a chip?” On the other end of the line, I heard him casually set the terms: Would I run away from the altar for him? Sasha couldn’t be used as a chip. But me? I was the chip in over a hundred of his games. 2 Almost everyone in the room bought in. “Damn! That’s a huge bet. No way she’d bail on her own wedding. Count me in.” “Yeah, Eva might be a simp, but I don’t believe she has zero dignity!” My hand holding the phone trembled. I pressed the end call button repeatedly, but my fingers were shaking too much. A tear fell, hitting the speakerphone button. I panicked and shut off the phone. I stared blankly ahead, then suddenly laughed. Absurd. Tragic. That was my relationship with Julian. Everyone knew I loved him. But no one knew Julian and I had been together for a long time. Before he went abroad for grad school, Julian asked me to wait three years. He promised that once he made a name for himself, he’d come back and marry me. But when I saw him again, he was surrounded by women. He had made a name for himself. I asked him if he remembered what he said. His look was unfamiliar, cold. “Everyone does stupid things when they’re young. Are you trying to blackmail me with that?” No matter how hard I tried, the distance between us only grew. So I gave up. But why? I was already getting married. I had already admitted defeat. Why couldn’t he just let me go? “Eva, you’re actually an idiot.” “If I were the groom, I’d slap you the second you walked back in. Do you have any idea how cheap you look right now?” Julian was yelling at me, spitting insults. I just felt exhausted. I shook off his hand. “Is that so? Watch me.” I walked away. Julian’s voice trailed behind me, impatient. “Fine. Don’t come crying to me when you get humiliated.” I didn’t look back. When I re-entered the chapel, the confetti cannons popped on cue. Pop! Gold streamers rained down on my head. The guests applauded. “I didn’t believe the program when it said there was a ‘Runaway Bride’ skit, but that was intense!” “Adds a little spice, doesn’t it?” “What was the meaning again? ‘True love survives all obstacles’?” 3 I kept a straight face and walked back onto the stage. The ceremony continued. Someone closed the heavy oak doors, leaving Julian standing outside, frozen in shock. We exchanged rings. We said our vows. During the reception, I checked my phone. Julian had sent a barrage of texts. What was that? Eva, did you just play me?! Yes. I played him. I was tired of being the puppy he summoned and dismissed at will. I hoped he learned some boundaries. I didn’t reply. Just as I was about to block him, he called. I declined. He called again. I finally picked up. Julian’s voice was dripping with rage. “Eva. You have three minutes. Come out here and explain yourself.” I answered casually. “Julian, the bet is over, right? You got the outcome you wanted. You won the money.” He took a deep breath, suppressing a scream. I was about to hang up when his tone shifted. “You really went all out just to make me jealous. A fake wedding? Was it fun?” “Fake wedding?” “Eva, I’m putting it out there. After today, don’t expect to ever see me again.” Julian was always arrogant. Whether he believed me or not, I didn’t care. I rubbed my temples. “That would be best.” I hung up. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. I turned and bumped into Liam’s handsome face. He was leaning against the wall, taller than Julian, his black tuxedo radiating a silent pressure. “Who was on the phone?” I paused. There was a hint of jealousy in his voice. We hadn’t known each other long. The marriage was… sudden. Before I could speak, he leaned in. His breath was close. I held mine. Before I could ask if this was too fast, he grabbed a glass from a nearby table and smiled at my reddening ears. “To celebrate? Cheers?” 4 Liam chose juice. We leaned against the balcony railing. He suddenly asked, “You never told me why you were at the City Clerk’s office that day.” I’m a lightweight. Even the thought of alcohol made my face flush. I squinted. “Just a coincidence.” But that day was actually my birthday. I hadn’t heard from Julian in months. He suddenly contacted me, saying he had a birthday surprise. Even though I knew better, I went. Near City Hall, I heard a roar overhead. It was a helicopter dropping flower petals. Julian was inside. My heart hammered against my ribs. The petals were custom-made. I picked one up. Be mine— My phone rang. It was Julian. “Told you it was a surprise.” I froze. Because I unfolded the petal and saw the name on the back: Sasha. Julian laughed over the roar of the engine. “Eva! She said yes! Wish me a happy relationship!” I went cold. I couldn’t hear what he said after that. I thought about college, when Julian first confessed to me. He lost a game of Truth or Dare. He picked me out of a group of girls. It was a joke. I should have laughed. But I thought he just needed courage. So I said yes. We were together for four years. Just like a normal couple. I watched the petals fall. I realized Julian and I had never even had a sincere “I like you.” I was so tired. No matter how hard I tried, Julian and I were a dead end. Liam walked out of the marriage license bureau toward me right then. He was breathtakingly handsome, surrounded by people staring. He begged me: “Help me out. Pretend to be my girlfriend for five minutes.” One afternoon later, we had a marriage certificate. It felt unreal. He said his family was pressuring him. I was 28, exhausted from chasing Julian. It clicked. Why not? 5 Liam finished his juice and walked me to the car. My head was spinning a little. Halfway to the hotel, he slammed on the brakes. A black SUV was blocking the road. I recognized it immediately. It was Julian. Through the window, I saw Sasha in the passenger seat. Julian hopped out and knocked on my window. Liam just lowered the glass. He was wearing sunglasses, his gaze clashing with Julian’s. “Can I help you?” Julian looked him up and down. He leaned on the door frame, smirking. “Eva, you hired a decent actor. Must have cost a fortune to stage this all day.” I twitched. If I had the certificate on me, I would have slapped him with it. But I had zero patience left for self-defense. “Move.” Julian’s expression faltered but recovered quickly. “Sasha forgot her jacket. It’s cold. Give her yours.” Sasha glanced at me, then looked away with a sneer. I was speechless. “Julian, are you that broke?” He did this often. He loved seeing me jealous. If I got mad, he’d toss me a crumb of affection. I used to cling to that crumb. Now? I grabbed a jacket from the backseat and threw it at him. “Here. Consider it a donation.” It was a matching couple’s jacket we bought in college. It was time to trash it anyway. He recognized it. He froze. Then the anger hit. “Eva! Enough is enough. Don’t push it.” Liam didn’t wait. He floored the gas, swerving around the SUV. We stopped not at Liam’s house, but at a high-end boutique. Liam opened my door. “Let’s go.” “Now? I have clothes.” He changed the subject smoothly. “I don’t. I have nothing to wear.” “And I need… matching couple stuff.” He strode inside. I stood there for a moment. How did Liam know that was a couple’s jacket? 6 Come to think of it. Julian barely ever wore that jacket. I rushed into the store, grabbed Liam, and stared at his face. He rubbed his chin. “Something on my face?” “No…” I remembered. A photo on Julian’s Instagram. One of the people in it… was Liam! I gasped. “You… you know Julian?” Liam smirked, noncommittal. “Maybe. But he didn’t seem to recognize me earlier.” With sunglasses on, Liam looked different. And Julian had probably never looked at my invitation. Liam’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “There’s a party tomorrow. You’ll understand then.” The next day, we arrived at a private room in a restaurant. Before we entered, I heard the noise inside. Julian was asking Liam: “Long time no see. What have you been up to?” “Getting married.” The room exploded. Julian sounded shocked. “You? Married? I thought you were asexual or something. When did you even date?” Liam crossed his legs and took a sip of wine. “You met her yesterday.” “Yesterday?” Julian dismissed it. “You’re mistaken. I was with Sasha all day. We only went to the hotel… and…” He stopped. He remembered something he didn’t want to discuss. A flash of loneliness crossed his eyes. He pulled out his phone. “Anyway, excuse me.” I was about to push the door open when my phone buzzed. Eva, consider the bet my apology. Come find me. Sasha isn’t here. First time Julian ever apologized. I turned off my phone. Then, a phone rang. Almost simultaneously, my ringtone rang out from the hallway, identical to the sound inside the room. Julian looked toward the door. His eyes lit up when he saw me. Then his face fell. Liam pulled me into the room and kissed me on the corner of my mouth. “Everyone, meet Eva. My wife.”

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Days before the Victoria’s Secret final casting. My husband, a celebrity plastic surgeon who swore he adored me, told me I had a flaw. He personally operated on my face to “fix” it. When the anesthesia wore off, I went to find him. I overheard him whispering sweet nothings to my runway rival. “The surgery on my wife is done. Your only competition is gone. Happy now?” The woman giggled, her voice sickly sweet. “Why didn’t you just disfigure her completely? Then I’d feel safe forever.” Ethan’s veins popped on his forehead. “Don’t push it. She’s the woman I love. Don’t you dare touch her!” “Okay, okay, I was just joking. Gentle…” The sounds of their heavy breathing filled the room. I felt like I had fallen into an ice cave. Since he changed my face without my consent, I decided to change my identity too. To the ends of the earth, he will never find me again. 1 I lay on the cold hospital bed, waiting for the nurse to remove the bandages. They chattered non-stop. “Dr. Sterling is taking his wife out for her birthday tonight. I heard he bought out the city’s fireworks display. So romantic!” “That’s nothing. Mrs. Sterling is a supermodel. Dr. Sterling designs her skincare routine personally. It takes so much effort.” They didn’t recognize that the patient in front of them was the envied “Mrs. Sterling.” To become a Victoria’s Secret Angel, I endured hardships Ethan knew better than anyone. Yet, to help Chloe, he changed my face! The nurse handed me a mirror. The face reflecting back was strange. It disgusted me. I never imagined the husband who treated me like a treasure would be cruel enough to slice open my face. I remembered when Ethan knelt on one knee, crying like a child. He said he would spoil me forever and send me to the international stage. He said my wish was his wish. Now it seems it was all just a painful lie. My knuckles turned white gripping the mirror, my eyes red. Hot tears streamed down my scarred face. I didn’t know which hurt more, the wounds or my heart. Just then, Ethan rushed into the room, scolding the nurses. “My wife is delicate! Why isn’t she in the VIP suite for the unveiling? If there’s any infection, you’re all fired!” The nurses finally realized who I was. They looked awkward and panicked. I dug my nails into my palm, tears falling uncontrollably. “Ethan, why did you touch my face?” He knelt quickly, coaxing me in a low voice. “I just wanted you to be even more beautiful, so your career would be smooth sailing.” He held the mirror up again. “Look, isn’t it great?” He was clearly proud of his work. But my original face was favored by international brands. It was crucial for my casting. Now, with this “youthful” face, my career was over. Ethan, who dealt with models daily, knew this perfectly well. He wiped my tears and kissed my forehead. “Alright, baby, don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart.” He didn’t even notice Chloe’s lipstick still on his lips. Sticky and disgusting. Or maybe it was just because this man was rotten to the core. I pushed him away gently. A nurse poked her head in. “Dr. Sterling, Miss Chloe’s facial treatment is due. Should we…” Ethan snapped his head back, annoyed. “Can’t you see I’m comforting my wife? Tell her to come another day!” I almost laughed. “Go. Work is important.” Ethan didn’t hesitate. He winked at me. “Okay, wifey. I’ll take you home when I’m done.” He didn’t notice how hurried his steps were. But I couldn’t wait any longer. “Sarah, are you sure you want to come to Milan as a mentor?” I touched my stinging face. “I can’t walk the runway anymore, so I’ll help others. But…” “I need you to help me erase my identity. I want to live with a brand new face.” The betrayed suffer so much. How can the betrayer sleep soundly? From now on, even if I stand right in front of Ethan, we are strangers. 2 Ethan rushed home. Seeing me on the sofa, he hugged me as if he’d lost and found a treasure. “You scared me, honey. I looked everywhere at the hospital. My heart almost jumped out.” He put my hand on his chest. His heart was pounding. If I hadn’t seen the message Chloe sent me, I might have believed him. [Sister Sarah, do you know what the best skincare product is? It’s a lover’s care. Dr. Sterling and I unlocked so many poses just now. My skin feels so smooth.] I looked up. The hickeys peeking out from Ethan’s collar screamed at me. He nuzzled into my neck. “Treatments are so tiring, but I promise I’ll make more time for you. You’re the love of my life.” Tiring, but pleasurable, right? I was numb. Ethan picked me up and put me in the car. “The hospital has been busy. We haven’t been to our favorite restaurant in ages. It’s your birthday, perfect timing.” My nerves twitched. I realized it had been a long time since we went out. But at the restaurant, the receptionist said his membership card balance was low. I remembered he topped it up with fifty grand last time. The waiters looked at us strangely. Ethan was flustered, his smile awkward. Our first meal was here. He proposed here. Ethan winked at the receptionist and hurriedly topped up the card. He forced a smile and led me to the window seat. The same seat where I said yes. He ordered a cake to change the subject. [Happy Birthday Miss Chloe] When the cake arrived, Ethan froze. He slammed the table, calling the waiter back. “Is this a mistake? My wife’s last name is Miller! This is disrespectful!” The waiter looked closely at my face and realized. “Sorry, we misread. We thought it was Miss Chloe from last time…” Ethan’s face darkened. He insisted they made a mistake. “Honey, we’re never coming back here.” “Just eat a bite. I’ll take you to see the fireworks.” Bitterness welled up in my heart. He organized fireworks for me. He brought his mistress to our special place. Ethan, you feel like a stranger. He dragged me excitedly to the rooftop by the river. He used to spend a fortune just to make me smile. He still did, just not the same him. Ethan hugged me from behind. “Look, baby! Fireworks! Happy?” In the flashing lights, tears streamed down my face. His phone beeped. He frowned. “The hospital again. I don’t care. Today is for my wife.” He hung up several times, but finally answered. “I said stop calling!” The other side didn’t speak, just sent a photo. Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His anger vanished. I waved my hand. “Don’t delay work for me.” Ethan sighed, pretending to be torn, saying he’d be back soon. But I received a message from Chloe: [Dr. Sterling is so easy. A new bikini sets him on fire. Borrowing him for a bit~] 3 It was laughable. The stickers Chloe sent were the same ones Ethan had been spamming lately. He used to hate “childish” things. I stood in the cold wind, watching the fireworks alone. My auction agent called. “Ms. Miller, the couple rings you wanted are up for bid. Should I go for it?” Days ago, I wanted the “Sapphire Destiny” rings for our tenth anniversary. Now, I didn’t want them at all. I was silent. The agent sighed regretfully. “Too bad. A Mr. Sterling lit a sky lantern and put the ring directly on a beauty’s hand. So romantic.” “Must be his wife.” I suppressed the pain in my heart and forced a smile. “Forget it then.” Those rings were engraved with “Forever Love.” Inappropriate for us now. Next second, I saw Chloe’s post. Two hands clasped tight, wearing the rings I dreamed of. [This ring stole my heart. Luckily, my lover lit a lantern for me!] I just sighed. Ethan took such good care of Chloe. Even her fingertips were smooth. Ethan was texting me too, trying to cover his guilt: [Wifey, I bought you so much jewelry! Coming home now.] The two messages side by side were ironic. The housekeeper served me rice and paused. “Madam, don’t cry. Sir will be heartbroken if he sees.” “Is the food bad?” I shook my head. The food was fine. The person was wrong. In the dark kitchen, messages kept popping up. [Sister Sarah, I didn’t want to fight you, but Dr. Sterling is too clingy.] [When you had appendicitis, when you were in America, when you got plastic surgery…] [I didn’t do much. Just hooked a finger, and he lost control. We tried everywhere. Oh right, including your bed while you were unconscious.] … Chloe recounted their affair for me. I had no energy to care. But one thing was new. My favorite wonton shop was downstairs from Chloe’s apartment. Ethan brought me wontons almost every day. I thought he was sweet. He was probably celebrating. Another excuse to drive miles to see his lover. And his wife would reward him with a kiss. “Delicious. Thanks, hubby.” My stomach churned violently. I ran to the bathroom and retched. Just as I was about to collapse, strong arms caught me. Ethan was sweating, eyes red. “Honey, you look so pale. You scared me…” He carried me out and scolded the housekeeper. He didn’t realize how stupid his act was. He put the jewelry from the auction on me. To me, it was just Chloe’s leftovers. Seeing my lack of interest, he coaxed me to sleep. Until I vaguely saw him hand a packet of powder to the housekeeper. “After I leave tomorrow, boil this for Madam.” 4 I knew I wouldn’t play along. Tomorrow was the casting day, and the day I left. Ethan was drugging me to stop me from blocking Chloe’s path. I swallowed the bitterness and slept until dawn. I made breakfast for my husband of ten years. The last meal. Ethan hugged me from behind. “Whose wife is so good? I’m envious of myself.” I kept flipping the eggs. “Today is the casting. Who do you think will win?” Ethan froze, laughing awkwardly. “Who cares? When your face heals, the champion will be you.” I smiled mockingly and plated the eggs. Ethan’s eyes darted over my face, guilty. “Honey, while your face heals and you can’t work, let’s have a baby?” “Imagine a daughter as beautiful as you. I’d be so happy.” He held me tight, whispering sweet nothings. All I saw was the matching ring on his finger. I responded faintly. His phone rang as soon as the food was served. Before he could speak, I smiled. “Hospital emergency? Go.” He always answered Chloe immediately. “Wait for me, wifey. I’ll miss you.” I didn’t nod. I wouldn’t be waiting. After he left, I gave the food to the housekeeper. I told her I knew about the drugs. “It’s okay. I can handle it.” I sent her away and packed everything. I went to the airport alone. Meanwhile, Ethan walked into the venue with Chloe on his arm. A news segment played on the wall. “Milan’s top agency hired a young new mentor named Sarah Ye.” “Must be talented.” Ethan frowned. His wife’s name was Sarah too. A bad feeling rose in his chest. He looked up at the screen.

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I found an earring tucked between the passenger seat and the center console of my husband, Frederick’s, car. It was the kind his star student, Tessa, always wore. He glanced at it when I held it up. “It was snowing, so I gave a couple of students a ride home,” he explained. “It must have just fallen off.” I carefully set it aside. “It’s okay,” I said, my voice even. “You don’t have to explain.” I knew the students Frederick was talking about, and the only one who ever insisted on riding shotgun was Tessa. Because of her, I had lost my mind, screaming at Frederick in fits of hysteria more times than I could count. Because of her, I had threatened to leave him again and again. It was only after I miscarried that he finally backed down, promising me he would never be alone with her outside of the university. Seeing my nonchalance now, Frederick looked stunned. He couldn’t hold back the question. “Don’t you care at all?” There was a time when I did care. All it got me were endless fights, a river of tears, and an empty womb. Now? Now, I truly didn’t. 1 I didn’t answer Frederick’s question. When we got home, he stopped me in the entryway, his face etched with a deep weariness. His eyes were a storm of complicated emotions. “Why?” he asked. I managed a small smile. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” I asked softly. He was silent for a moment before trying again. “Tessa is my student. I gave her and another student a ride today. That’s all. Why do you always have to…” He trailed off, but I finished the sentence for him in my head. Why do you always have to assume the worst about us? He seemed to realize his mistake and sighed in frustration. “I wasn’t alone with her. And she sat in the front because she gets carsick.” “Beyond that,” he insisted, “she is my student, and I am her professor. There is nothing else between us.” I said nothing. A shadow of exhaustion and helplessness crossed Frederick’s face. “Julia, what do you want from me?” I looked at him, my expression placid. “I don’t want anything from you.” “And you don’t need to explain so much to me.” The image of the earring flashed in my mind. “Maybe you should take that back to her now. It’s not safe for her to be knocking on our door in the middle of the night.” Frederick’s face fell. Tessa had shown up at our house late at night twice before. The first time, she claimed she’d left a lab report in his car and arrived with red-rimmed eyes, looking distressed. In the end, Frederick drove her home. Two weeks after that, I found a tube of lipstick under the passenger seat. “That must be Tessa’s,” Frederick had said with a casual shrug. “She probably dropped it.” He pocketed it without another thought. I frowned, trying to push down the strange feeling in my gut. I didn’t ask. But that night, Tessa appeared on our doorstep again. She held out her hand to him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Professor, can I have my lipstick back?” Frederick pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her, his tone flat. “Be more careful next time.” Tessa stuck her tongue out at him playfully. “I know, Professor!” she chirped, her tone oozing a familiar, practiced sweetness. I stood frozen in place, watching her. That was the first time I ever really fought with Frederick. At the end of it, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Julia, not everyone’s mind is stuck in the gutter like yours.” “Tessa isn’t like you. She’s a brilliant student.” Tears clung to my eyelashes as I stared at him, stunned into silence. He said nothing more, just turned and walked away. The memory faded. Frederick was staring at me now, searching my face for any hint of a reaction. He found none. As I turned to go upstairs, his voice, hoarse and tinged with a desperate hope, stopped me. “Julia, today is our fifth wedding anniversary.” “Did you remember?” If he hadn’t mentioned it, I would have forgotten. Ever since he’d started mentoring students, our anniversaries had been reduced to a single word. Busy. Last year, I had called him, my voice tight with nervous excitement. It wasn’t Frederick who answered. It was Tessa. “Mrs. Albright? The professor’s had a bit too much to drink. Maybe you should call back when he’s sober?” Hearing her voice was like having a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Frederick hated anyone touching his phone, and that included me. In our first year of marriage, I’d accidentally picked up his phone instead of mine. He hadn’t said anything, but the look on his face was enough. I never touched it again. And yet, Tessa felt comfortable enough to answer his calls. That incident led to another explosive fight. He ended up storming out of the house. The special dinner and gifts I’d prepared sat untouched all night. I turned back to him now. “I forgot.” Frederick’s expression froze. He looked at me in utter disbelief. “You forgot?” I didn’t reply. I just went upstairs to our room. Later that night, a noise from downstairs woke me. I groggily opened my door to see what was going on. As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard Tessa’s voice. “I just want to know what I did wrong. Professor, did your wife misunderstand something about us?” “You’ve been ignoring me. You don’t answer my texts.” “If it’s because of her, I can explain everything to her.” By the end, her voice was thick with tears. Tessa was the only female student Frederick had mentored in the last two years. Perhaps because of that, everyone, including Frederick, seemed to give her a little extra attention. Her name came up in his stories far more often than anyone else’s. After a long pause, I heard Frederick’s weary voice. “It has nothing to do with you. Don’t blame yourself.” “Really?” Tessa asked, her voice still choked with sobs. “But… you were ignoring me.” “Yes, really.” And then, Tessa laughed, the sound bright and relieved. I walked slowly down the stairs, just in time to see her throw her arms around Frederick, her hands clasped tightly behind his neck. I glanced over, said nothing, and walked past them to the kitchen for a glass of water. Frederick’s expression changed instantly. He pushed Tessa away. She quickly wiped her face, her voice flustered as she tried to explain. “Mrs. Albright, it’s not what it looks like. I was just so relieved, so I…” I turned my head and offered a small smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” “I’m trying to sleep. Could you please keep it down?” Tessa’s face froze. She looked instinctively to Frederick. After he sent her home, Frederick came upstairs. “Julia,” he said, his voice heavy with fatigue. “There’s something wrong between us. We need to talk.” I laughed. “What do you want to talk about? Tessa?” He fell silent. I sighed, my gaze on him unnervingly calm, as if I were looking at a stranger. “Frederick, I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. Tessa is your only female student. It’s natural for you to treat her well. I’m not going to get angry about things like that, so you don’t need to come to me with special explanations.” “There’s nothing to explain,” I said. “I understand completely.” The color drained from Frederick’s face. Those were the exact words he had said to me during one of our countless fights about her. Now, I was giving them right back. He opened his mouth to say something, but his phone rang. It was Tessa. He looked at me, hesitating for a second before answering. He even put it on speaker. Tessa was crying on the other end. “Professor, I was in a car accident. Can you please come? I’m so scared.” Frederick’s brow furrowed. “Did you call 911? Don’t panic. I’ll send someone over.” He hung up and quickly dialed another number, explaining the situation in a few curt sentences before ending the call. He looked up at me, lost for words. I spoke first. “You should have just driven her home yourself.” He was quiet for a long time. “It wouldn’t have been appropriate for me to take her.” I gave a humorless smile. Our talk was over. He went back to his room. My desire to sleep had vanished. Thirty minutes later, I heard the soft click of the front door closing, followed by the sound of a car engine starting. He had gone to her after all. Lying in bed, I suddenly started to laugh. Frederick and I met in college during a competition. I was the one who pursued him. After three years of dating, we got married right after graduation. For the first two years, things were good. In his first year of his PhD program, he won a breakthrough award in physics, and his talent secured him a position as the youngest professor in the department right after he graduated. He became incredibly busy. Buried in experiments, constantly traveling for conferences. I understood. Even when he missed my birthday, I swallowed my disappointment and told him it was okay, that his work was important. I worried he wasn’t eating properly, so for a whole year, I brought him lunch every day. Then, one day, he told me to stop. “You don’t have to bring me food anymore. The cafeteria is fine, and it’s too much trouble for you.” It wasn’t long after that I discovered he had taken on a new female student. When I asked, he said, “Another professor recommended her. It would have been awkward to say no.” I accepted it and didn’t press him. But then I noticed Tessa was always around him. She was bubbly and charming, and she knew how to be playful. Frederick, who had always hated being bothered, somehow allowed her to constantly orbit him, to text him about every little detail of her life. The day he returned her lipstick to her was the day we had our first major fight. He thought I was overreacting. “Julia, she’s my student. Don’t be so sensitive.” The cracks between us grew wider. We fought more and more. And it was always about Tessa. It got so bad we nearly divorced, but he wouldn’t sign the papers. During that time, I became a person I didn’t recognize. I was a paranoid wreck, constantly checking his phone, demanding to know his schedule. If he didn’t text back immediately, my mind would spiral. Once, when he was away at a conference with his students, I bombarded him with frantic messages. Finally, a voice note came through, sent from his phone. It was Tessa. “Mrs. Albright, the professor is busy right now. He’ll call you back when he’s finished. I know you like to be in control, but you have to pick your moments to have a scene, you know? Could you please just not bother him for a little while?” I snapped. I sent Tessa a string of vicious, ugly messages. When Frederick came home, it was another huge fight. He looked at me with such profound disappointment. “Julia, what’s happened to you?” “Do you have any idea what kind of damage those messages could do to her? If she showed them to anyone, what would the university think of me? What would they think of you?” “Did you ever stop to think about that?” He never once mentioned Tessa’s behavior, how she had crossed a line. In his eyes, I was the one being unreasonable. The argument got so heated that my vision tunneled, and I collapsed. When I woke up in the hospital, the doctor told me I was pregnant. I instinctively touched my stomach. It was a shame. I would never have children now. Frederick didn’t come home until the next morning. He offered no explanation. I didn’t ask for one. Tessa was kept in the hospital for three days of observation. After she was discharged, she sent Frederick a stream of grateful texts. After all, he had visited her whenever he had a spare moment during those three days. I didn’t say a word about it. I went about my days, not even sparing him a glance. He tried to start a conversation several times, but always seemed to lose his nerve. One evening after dinner, he finally cornered me. He spoke hesitantly. “She was in the hospital for a few days. As her professor, it would have been wrong not to visit.” I paused. I had expected something else. I didn’t expect this. I forced a smile. “I understand. Don’t worry, I won’t cause any trouble for her.” “Is there anything else?” It was like a dam broke inside him. His voice trembled with suppressed frustration as he confronted me. “Julia, that’s enough.” “How long are you going to keep treating me like this?” he demanded. “You’re not the same person you used to be.” My smile faded. He stared at me. “Are you blaming me? For the baby? I was devastated too.” My gaze turned to ice. “Shouldn’t I blame you?” He was instantly silenced. That day, I had slipped and fallen down the stairs. I called him, and he was almost home. But then Tessa called him, saying she didn’t have a ride. He turned the car around to take her home. He hung up on me before I could even finish my sentence. By the time I got to the hospital, the baby was gone. The doctor said if I’d gotten there just a little sooner, they might have been able to save the baby. Then came the second blow: my body was too weak, and the miscarriage had done so much damage that it would be nearly impossible for me to ever get pregnant again. When Frederick found out, he knelt by my hospital bed for two days, begging for my forgiveness. After I came home, he changed. He cut off all private contact with Tessa. He let me check his phone, told me his schedule without my asking. But it was too late. I didn’t need it anymore. I was just so tired. And besides, I had already bought my ticket to Ashworth. I looked away from Frederick and went upstairs. The day I left, Frederick’s team had another major breakthrough. He was out of town, giving a live-streamed press conference. When the camera focused on him, he said just one thing: “I’d like to thank my wife, Julia.” The live chat exploded with comments about what a devoted husband he was. Beside him, Tessa’s smile looked a little strained, but she finished the interview. I turned off my phone and went to the airport. Right before boarding, Frederick called. A final call, perhaps. I answered, and the first thing I heard was Tessa’s cheerful voice in the background. “Professor, you were amazing! We have to celebrate tonight, right?” I hung up the phone and got on the plane. Frederick instinctively covered the microphone, hoping Julia hadn’t heard. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Tessa grabbed his arm happily. “It’s a date then, Professor!” He looked down at his phone and saw that the call had already been disconnected. When he finally returned to Crestwood, Tessa ran into his office, looking flustered and holding a large envelope. “P-Professor, this was delivered for you. From your wife.” “What is it?” Confused, Frederick took the envelope from her. He tore it open and his face changed instantly.

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I married the man I had a crush on for three years. But he would rather make up an excuse about being a succubus who can’t have children than sleep with me. So, when he got drunk one night, I took advantage of the situation. A year later, I looked at the two little beans lying next to me. Damn it, he really could give birth! 1 This was the first time I’d seen Julian drunk. We’d been married for a month, living like two roommates under the same roof. Even on our wedding night, he politely grabbed a pillow and slept in the guest room. He didn’t like me; I knew that before we got married. But I really liked Julian. So even if we were married in name only, I was willing. A forced melon might not be sweet, but it quenches thirst. And right now, here was my chance to quench my thirst. I swallowed hard, but my hands didn’t stop moving. In no time, I had him stripped down to his boxers. His cheeks were flushed, and he shyly covered his crotch. I had already planned it out. If he asked tomorrow, I’d say he got drunk and initiated it, pushing all the responsibility onto him. “Lily.” I touched his face. Maybe my hands were cold because he nuzzled into my palm like a kitten. “Julian, do you know what I’m going to do?” “Like…” My face fell. He likes me but stays away from me? But then I thought, maybe he likes someone else. As far as I knew, he had a “rumored girlfriend” in college who was his equal in every way. But for some reason, they didn’t end up together, and she suddenly went abroad to study in our junior year. Good riddance. If she hadn’t left, how could I have swooped in? His blindingly white abs flashed before my eyes. My blood rushed, and I panted as I dragged him to the bed. Light kisses landed on his face, his lips, and then he covered my mouth. “No, I… I can’t.” What does that mean??? “I… I can’t have children.” After saying that, his mouth puckered, and he started sobbing quietly. Can’t have children? Does he have azoospermia? “That’s fine! I don’t like kids anyway.” His face was streaked with tears, and he hiccuped as he cried. “You… you don’t mind that I can’t have children? They say all humans like children.” I was confused. “What kind of talk is that? Are you not human?” He shook his head, blushing. “I’m a succubus.” Good lord, so kinky! We’re doing cosplay now? Excited, I kissed him again and again. “I like succubi who can’t have children.” He stopped crying and tilted his head. “Really?” “Stop asking. I’m going to show you just how real my words are with my actions!” I didn’t know if Julian could have children, but I knew he was amazing (thumbs up). When I woke up, the spot next to me was cold. He must have gone to the office. I rubbed my sore waist, grinning sweetly despite the pain. This melon really quenched my thirst! 2 I cooked a few of my specialty dishes and planned to bring them to Julian. But when I got to the company, I waited for hours. I had slept very little last night, so I was drowsy. When I woke up, I realized it was already time to get off work. The lunch box in front of me was empty and even cleaned. Julian was sitting in front of the computer, the screen’s light illuminating his exquisite face. My husband is so handsome! Not only handsome but also thoughtful; he didn’t even turn on the lights while I was sleeping. “Julian.” I pretended to wake up slowly, pouted like a kitten, yawned, and looked at him innocently. “I slept for so long. Did I disturb your work?” “Don’t bring me food next time. If you’re tired, go home early.” Holy crap! How could those warm lips say such cold words? We just had a session of intimate, negative-distance exercise last night! I thought for a moment. Maybe he wasn’t satisfied with my performance last night? Maybe he prefers the clingy type? I trotted over to him, sat on his lap, and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Get down.” I shifted my butt, getting even closer. “No. I’m your wife. It’s only right for me to sit on you.” His silver-rimmed glasses gleamed, and his expression was unnatural. “Lily!” I was getting impatient. “You can be on top tonight, okay?” His face turned redder, and he seemed helpless. “Lily, I’m in a meeting.” Huh? My body stiffened instantly, and I turned my neck at a snail’s pace. On the computer screen were all the company executives… “Let’s pause the meeting for today. I need to handle some family matters.” Someone on the other end was already covering their mouth, snickering. My reputation was ruined. He closed the laptop. In the dim light, Julian’s face looked even better. “Last night we…” He struggled to say it, as if I had forced him last night, even though he enjoyed it too. “You initiated it last night.” I shamelessly distorted the facts. “I clearly refused, but you insisted.” Ignoring his shocked gaze, I cupped his face. “Anyway, we’re husband and wife. It’s normal for couples to do that.” “And you were pretty funny last night. You even said you were a succubus who couldn’t have children… Ouch!” I was dropped onto the floor. Julian stood up abruptly, looking nervous. “Let’s pretend last night never happened.” Before I could respond, he left like a gust of wind. He didn’t come home for three days straight, going completely MIA. 3 “So that’s why you came to annoy me?” My best friend, Chloe, asked with interest while eating fruit. She knew I had a crush on Julian for three years. In college, I wasn’t as bold and unrestrained as I am now. Although I was a rich kid, my family was nouveau riche. My parents were used to hard times, so even after getting rich, they didn’t dare spend money recklessly. This made me frugal too. Meeting someone as outstanding as Julian naturally made me feel inferior. During those years of crushing on him, it was pure fantasy. I only dared to watch from afar, stealing glances at most. The boldest thing I did was write a love letter inviting him to go shopping. Of course, the result was waiting in vain. Not like now, with panties flying everywhere, touching abs whenever I want, and flirting non-stop. “I really like him. If he likes me too, I’d give him my life.” Chloe: “Is this ‘give my life’ literature? Interesting.” Me: “But if our marriage is going to be like this forever, how am I different from a concubine waiting to be favored in ancient times?” Chloe: “Then get a divorce.” Me: “But on the other hand, I got his body and his money, eight million a month.” Chloe: “Ah, then don’t divorce.” Me: “But I’m basically a crazy consort in the cold palace, having to wait for him all the time…” Chloe: “Say one more word, and I’ll strangle you.” Chloe seemed to remember something and gave me a cold smile. “Have you ever thought that maybe you’re too clingy, making him feel like you’ll follow him no matter what he does?” “What do you mean?” I was confused. “Idiot. You haven’t given him a sense of crisis. What if a man who is his equal appears and pursues you?” “Even the coldest man will react to seeing himself getting cucked.” I panicked. “What if he doesn’t react?” Chloe smiled: “Pack up and get a divorce.” I was devastated. She took out her phone and tapped away on the screen. “What are you doing?” She didn’t look up. “Finding a rival for your husband.” Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. Chloe smirked. “He’s here.” She got up to open the door, and bang. Startled by the sound, I ran out. I saw a man pinning Chloe against the wall, kissing her wildly. The kiss was earth-shattering. No matter how much Chloe hit him, he remained unmoved and kept kissing. What should I do? It was awkward to watch, but I couldn’t interrupt. I hesitated for a long time. Finally, the guy noticed there was someone else present. His lips left Chloe, and he glanced at me with eyes full of wickedness. Oh my god, this guy is gorgeous. Chloe was half-dead from the kiss. “Let me introduce you. This is my friend with benefits, Rex.” The guy didn’t speak, just pinched Chloe’s chin and kissed her heavily again. “Rex!” I was dumbfounded. After a while, Rex finally had enough and let go of Chloe, then nodded at me. “Hello, Chloe’s husband.” Awesome. 4 “What do I get out of this?” Just now, when Chloe explained the plan, Rex’s expression instantly turned into Siberian cold air. “Can’t you help a brother out?” “Sure, what can you give me?” He leaned in front of Chloe, his face full of lust and desire. Good lord, where did she find this guy? Chloe bit her lip unwillingly. “You can do whatever you want when the time comes, okay?” “Deal.” Then his gaze swept over me, tone cold. “Just listen to my commands later.” According to the latest intel, Julian was at the Polo Club. I didn’t know what Rex’s identity was, but as far as I knew, money alone couldn’t get you into this club. Chloe and I hunched over, carefully looking towards a spot some distance away. Several tall men in polo gear were chatting in the rest area. “You, come out.” Rex beckoned me with a blank face. “Go on.” Chloe gave me a gentle push. Damn, I was starting to cringe again. “Go to my side later, dump these things in front of me, and start crying.” Me: ? I took the bag he gave me and looked inside. Why were they all candid photos of him? Seeing that he had already walked near Julian, I could only bite the bullet and rush forward. Then I dumped the contents of the bag in front of him and immediately smeared onion on my eyelids. Good lord, tears streamed down like rain. Silence. Even Rex stood aside, arms crossed, watching me calmly. My eyes could barely open. Was I going to stand here like an idiot, being watched like a monkey? The next second, a familiar cold scent drilled into my nose, and a cool wet wipe was pressed onto my eyes. When my vision cleared, only Julian was left. “That man left.” Julian said with a cold face. “Do you like him that much? Crying like this.” I was wronged. That guy was inhumane; he gave me a bag of his selfies and an onion slice, then left. He took out an exquisite gift box from his pocket and placed it in my hand. “The blue diamond necklace I custom-ordered for you in Berlin. I’ve been wanting to give it to you…” Did he disappear for three days to prepare a gift for me?

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The notification dinged, and I saw the client name pop up on my Amazon app. Brandon Cole. My husband. The address was one of those exclusive, glass-and-steel complexes: The Presidio Residences. I called him. It rang far too long before he answered. “Where are you?” “At the office, babe… why?” His voice was thin and shaky, and I could hear a distinct, hollow echo in the background. “No reason. Just checking in.” As soon as I hung up, Brandon updated his social media: [Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a mid-day spousal check-in. Blessed.] Attached was a blurry selfie of him at a desk, looking smug. I casually tapped “Like,” then followed the GPS to his location. I rode my e-bike through the complex gates, pulling up to the exact building. A small boy was standing by the door, impatiently kicking the ground. “Hurry up, delivery person. You’re taking me to soccer practice.” His tone was demanding. I stared at his face—eyes, chin, and brow, a mirror image of Brandon’s—and forced a pleasant smile. “Hey there, buddy. For a scheduled drop-off, I just need to confirm with a parent in person.” “Where is your mom or dad?” 1 “Ugh, this is so annoying!” The boy, Chase, rolled his eyes at me, a theatrical gesture Brandon himself had mastered, and stormed back inside. A woman in silk loungewear, the LV logo subtle on the lapel, appeared in the doorway. I squinted at her face, and a sudden, cold jolt hit me. It was Tinsley Bell. She was a realtor I’d met years ago when Brandon had been obsessed with “just looking” at this very building. We couldn’t afford it, but he insisted on the tour. When Tinsley, the agent, tried to add Brandon on social media afterward, he pushed her contact onto my phone, claiming, “Gotta let my wife handle the logistics.” Tinsley Bell was still languishing in my friend list. Her posts had evolved from listings to a relentless feed of luxury travel and designer bags. She’d clearly married into money. “I’m the mother. You can take him now.” Tinsley’s hand rested on the doorframe, flashing a heavy, layered golden manicure that I knew started at ten thousand dollars—I’d picked up supplies for that salon before. Everything about this place, from the trim to the fabric, screamed old money. Brandon, meanwhile, was a $4,000-a-month accountant. My gaze locked onto a quilted down jacket hanging on a hook by the entrance. It was the exact model I’d bought Brandon last winter. Even the small cigarette burn on the cuff—the one I’d patched myself—was in the same place. I took a slow, deep breath, tasting the dry air of the hallway. “What is your relationship with Brandon Cole?” Tinsley looked at me, a flicker of suspicion in her expensive eyes. “Brandon Cole is my husband. Does your delivery service run background checks now?” A suffocating wave of nausea hit my chest. I fought to keep the smile plastered on my face. “You misunderstand, ma’am. New platform rule for child transport: both guardians must confirm the drop-off.” “That’s ridiculous. There was no rule like that before. You know what? I’ll just cancel the ride.” Tinsley pulled up the app, ready to hit cancel. Chase wrapped his arms around her legs, whining dramatically. “Chase needs to go to practice! I want to play with Summer!” Tinsley sighed, clearly exasperated, and called into the back of the apartment, “Honey! Can you come here? The delivery guy is being difficult!” She walked further in to find him. I could barely make out the wedding portrait hanging far down the hall. I knelt beside Chase. “How old are you, sweetie?” “Five. Ugh—” Chase recoiled, clamping a hand over his nose and quickly pulling a surgical mask out of his Spider-Man backpack. “You smell gross. No wonder Daddy always complains about how much delivery people stink.” I felt the last thread of my composure snap. “What the hell is the hold-up? This is insane just to drop off a kid.” “Who the hell took this order?” Brandon, dressed in matching silk loungewear, stomped out of the bedroom, cursing under his breath. When he saw me, the rage drained from his face. His expression froze into a mask of pure terror. 2 “Laney… what are you doing here?” “I’m here to take your son to soccer practice, obviously.” I hooked an arm around Chase and moved toward the door. Brandon lunged forward, grabbing Chase back. He ignored the boy’s immediate tantrum, canceling the lesson with a quick text. Tinsley grabbed my arm, her manicured nails digging into my skin. “Wait a minute. I knew you looked familiar. You’re Brandon’s ex-wife.” “We divorced years ago. Are you really going to make a scene? Do you have no shame?” Brandon pulled Tinsley closer, his voice saccharine. “I’ll handle this, baby. Don’t stress yourself out; it’s bad for the pregnancy.” He dragged me just outside the apartment, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t look at me for a long time. Finally, he exhaled a cloud of smoke and mumbled, “Look, I messed up.” “When did we divorce, Brandon? You want to start there? What is your explanation?” I demanded. Brandon quickly put a finger to his lips, shushing me. “Tinsley’s just pregnant with number two, Laney. We can’t upset her. You didn’t give her any trouble, did you?” I didn’t answer. I just stared, letting the silence hang heavy between us. He sighed, the theatrical weariness I knew so well. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. The kind of mistake every man makes at least once.” He confessed to the affair. On our first wedding anniversary, while I thought he was working late, he had been here, in this building, with Tinsley. She was pregnant right away. “Tinsley is different from you, Laney. She’s pure. I had to give her a home.” “And this apartment? I’m just renting it. I wanted a peaceful, high-end environment for her while she was expecting.” Listening to his soft, self-pitying confession, I felt only a chilling, intense mockery. The first year we were married, I was in a terrible car accident on my way to work. Brandon had saved my life, literally giving me his blood. He’d told me I was his life. The accident left me unable to have children. He swore he loved me more because of it. But he had been cheating on me back when he claimed to love me most. When he failed at a startup and racked up debt, when his mother, Veronica, got her cancer diagnosis, I worked every grueling Amazon gig I could find to keep us afloat. I’d worked until I was coughing up blood, only for him to spend that money supporting this second life. Brandon reached for my hand. “Even with Tinsley, I still love you, Laney. I do.” “After the baby is born, I’ll figure out a way for all of you to just… get along.” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound, and snatched my hand away. “Brandon Cole, we’re done. I want a divorce.” He shrugged, completely dismissive. “It’s just cheating, Laney. Do you have to be so dramatic?” He genuinely seemed to think I was just threatening him. But this time, I had no interest in continuing the performance. “Daddy! Mommy’s belly hurts!” Chase ran out, clutching Tinsley’s arm. Brandon’s expression darkened. He shot me a venomous look and scrambled back inside to his pregnant mistress. Before he disappeared, my phone buzzed with a text from him. [Glad Tinsley is okay. As the older sister in this situation, you need to stop doing things that disrupt our family harmony.] [Go think about what you did. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear the D-word.] I wanted to vomit. I deleted the message without a second thought. I called the Amazon dispatcher, taking the next day off. It was time to prepare for the divorce. Back at our tired, old apartment, I pulled out a dusty cardboard box. It was filled with cheap trinkets: the handwritten notes, the folded paper “promise stars.” He’d never given me another gift, and I’d always excused him, believing he was struggling. Now I knew the truth: he wasn’t struggling. He just thought I was a fool. I dumped the entire box into the trash bin. While packing up his few belongings, I found a real estate deed tucked into an old suit jacket. The owner’s name was clearly written: Brandon Cole. I smiled. The money trail was suddenly very clear. I quietly slipped the deed into my pocket. Then, I tossed all of Brandon’s other things out the front door. As for Veronica, his mother, I didn’t want a scene with a cancer patient, so I called her to come get her own items. I was met with a screaming torrent of abuse. 3 “Laney Shaw, you barren animal! You can’t have children, so you’re trying to harm Tinsley? Are you a monster?” “You want a divorce? Not until you sign over the apartment to Brandon! Never!” It turned out Veronica had known about Tinsley the entire time. They had been working together to bleed me dry. I didn’t bother arguing. I just hung up. The apartment was mine; I had paid the mortgage and just made the final payment this month. Brandon hadn’t contributed a dime, and he was an adulterer. He had no claim. I changed the locks to a new fingerprint system and installed a security camera. Neither of them would ever step foot in my home again. I mailed Brandon the divorce papers. Before I went to sleep, Tinsley sent me a video call request. I answered. The camera was pointed directly at Brandon’s face. He was working hard, his body straining above Tinsley. “Honey, who do you love more? Me or Laney Shaw?” Tinsley asked in a simpering voice, holding the phone up. “You, of course! Laney is a slug! Stale and dry, like sleeping with a dead fish!” The sounds of their cheap, crude lovemaking continued until it was over. Tinsley followed up with a slew of taunting texts. [Your anniversary? He was in my bed. Your birthday? Still in my bed.] [He even sabotaged your e-bike motor to make me laugh. He was watching you struggle in the rain via a drone feed.] [While you were pushing your bike to the repair shop, he and I were having car sex in his Mercedes-Benz.] … [Laney, you are pathetic.] The dense stream of words crashed against me like a wave. But my heart, already like cold ash, did not stir. Satisfied, I stopped the screen recording. I had all the evidence I needed for the coming fight. The next day, I picked up my usual route. My first order was documents. The second, a bouquet of flowers. When I handed the flowers to the customer, he recoiled, giving them a suspicious sniff. His expression turned grim. “Do I have a problem with you?” he asked coldly. I shook my head, confused. Before I could speak, he threw the bouquet directly at my face. “You don’t, but some bastard certainly does! Did you seriously piss all over my order?” The foul, acrid smell of urine, mixed with shredded petals, clung to my skin and clothes. I apologized profusely, promising to call the police and offering a ten-fold cash refund. Only then did the man let it go. “Ha ha ha! The stinky delivery girl got what she deserved!” I turned and saw Chase, doubled over laughing. Veronica, Brandon’s mother, patted the boy’s head approvingly. “Chase, that was brilliant! A little payback for Mommy and Daddy!” I flew into a rage. I charged at them and shoved Chase hard. He tried to swing at me, but I kicked his legs out from under him. He hit the ground and started screaming. Veronica leaped forward, putting herself between me and the boy, ready to fight. “Laney Shaw! Have you no shame, fighting a child?” I grabbed her wrist and called the police. “No one is going anywhere until the officers arrive.” Veronica struggled but couldn’t break my grip. She scoffed. “The police? Chase is a minor. They won’t do a thing to a little boy.” Then she leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Let me tell you something else, you fool. I don’t have cancer. I faked the whole thing.” She threw her head back and laughed into the wind. I reached into my pocket, touching the wrinkled diagnosis report I’d kept. Veronica hadn’t had cancer when she first claimed it. But her checkup last month confirmed it—late-stage, terminal. I didn’t need to tell her. The police arrived quickly. Brandon, winded, showed up moments later. 4 Veronica, as the present guardian, was held responsible. Brandon grudgingly paid for the damage. After the officers left and his mother and son were gone, Brandon glowered at me. “It was just a harmless prank, Laney. Did you really have to call the police?” “You’re getting completely out of line.” “Besides, it’s just kid pee. It’s cleaner than water. Why are you making a fuss?” I picked up the remaining half of the ruined bouquet and thrust it toward his mouth. “Not dirty, you say? Then drink it.” Brandon recoiled instantly, clearing his throat. “Wife, I love you very much. I won’t sign the divorce papers.” “I honestly think the three of us could live under the same roof. Maybe even share the same bed.” He casually slid his hand onto my lower back. “And listen, Tinsley is indisposed for a few days. Could you register your fingerprint on the lock at the Presidio for me? You could help me out.” His sheer audacity made me physically ill. When he leaned in for a kiss, I slapped him across the face, hard. Brandon stared at me, dumbfounded. “You… you just hit me?” In his memory, I was still the obedient wife, the one who took his abuse like a whipped dog. My voice was ice. “You have three days to sign the agreement. If not, I’m filing a lawsuit for divorce.” My unexpected resolve stunned him into instant fury. “Laney Shaw, don’t be ridiculous! You’re a trashy delivery girl! Who the hell else would have you?” “You want a divorce? Fine! Give me the house! You haven’t even finished paying off the mortgage you promised to cover, and I have a wife and a child to support now. You owe me!” His shameless greed only fueled my disgust. I kept my emotions in check, speaking slowly and deliberately. “Zero assets, zero support, and marital infidelity. According to the agreement, you’ll be leaving with nothing.” “Also, Brandon? I know you bought the house at The Presidio.” His pupils dilated in shock. He quickly tried to deny it. “What are you talking about? Who bought a house… What the hell are you implying?” “Are you threatening me, Laney Shaw?” He stared at me, eyes burning with a desperate, sudden fear. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Then, realizing something, his face went ashen. He bolted toward his Mercedes-Benz and frantically made a call. By the time he came back out, I was already gone on my e-bike. That night, my phone was bombarded with texts from Brandon. [Laney Shaw, return what you stole from me immediately!] [Sign the deed for the old apartment over to my name, and wire me $10,000 for living expenses!] [I might let this slide if you do it!] [Don’t make me get nasty!] 5 Dozens of calls followed. I could picture him on the other end of the screen, panicked and enraged, his biggest secret now in my hand. I touched the crisp, crimson-colored real estate deed tucked safely away. The mansion that was once an impossible dream for us was now his. Not only had he bought it, but he had bought the realtor too. A ten million dollar condo was not something a $4,000-a-month accountant could buy. There was only one possible conclusion: the money was dirty. [Still playing dead?] [I swear, I will make sure you can’t even deliver a package! I will ruin your life!] [I have ways to make you surrender!] I smiled at the stream of threats. I packaged the deed and all the other evidence. Then, I set a timed email to send to Brandon’s company’s compliance department. Let’s see what “ways” he had. Three days passed. Brandon had not signed the divorce papers. I called my lawyer and prepared the lawsuit. Later, I headed to the Annual Rider Awards Gala. As the reigning “Top Runner,” I was about to receive my award. Suddenly, Brandon and Tinsley stormed the venue, unfurling a huge, hand-painted banner. “I’m reporting this fraud! My wife, Laney Shaw, is using the Amazon platform as a cover for sex work!” “She infected me, and she’s maliciously spreading a virus while she knows she has a dirty disease!” “The company needs to investigate! Everyone needs to be warned!” Brandon waved a printed copy of my old medical report. Tinsley started a loop of security footage showing me frequently entering and exiting a run-down, low-income apartment block. The other runners started buzzing. “Laney doesn’t look like that kind of person… I can’t believe it.” “You might have eaten takeout delivered by her.” “So that’s the secret to thirty thousand a month! She’s not the Top Runner; she’s the Hooker Queen!” The most vicious attack came from Cody Evans, a young rider I had personally mentored. I’d helped him clear his debts and earn a steady income. Now, he leaped onto a banquet table, his eyes full of pure hatred. Brandon leaned in, his voice low and menacing. “Don’t touch things that aren’t yours, Laney.” “Return the property and agree to a net-zero divorce, and I’ll clear your name. Otherwise, I have physical evidence and witnesses.” I met his triumphant gaze, and a chilling smile touched my lips.

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After breaking up with my ex-boyfriend, Julian Cross, we kept sleeping together because our physical chemistry was off the charts. After one intimate session, he threw half a box of ultra-thin condoms at me: “I’m getting married, trying for a baby, won’t need these anymore.” “I found you a blind date, go see him.” “Don’t always cling to me, find a man to take over.” I picked up my clothes, dressed silently, and left. I didn’t go to the blind date. After all, my white moonlight (first love) was back in town. He had no idea I found someone to “take over” behind his back. 1 After a hearty session of intimacy. I calmed my breathing, picked up my change of clothes, and walked into the bathroom. Julian used to clean me up afterwards when we were together. When I came out drying my hair, he was leaning against the headboard. He picked up the half-used box of strawberry-flavored ultra-thin condoms and casually threw them into my arms. When we were dating, he casually mentioned he liked strawberry flavor. Since then, I prepared them every time. I caught the box, slightly stunned. “I’m getting married for business, trying for a baby, won’t need these anymore.” He explained casually. Biting an unlit cigarette, the spark flickered in the dim light. Even after buckling his belt, he exuded a careless sexiness. Seeing me staring blankly. He smiled loosely. His voice still husky from indulgence: “I found you a blind date, go see him.” He blew a smoke ring at me. I couldn’t help coughing. He laughed frivolously: “Choking? You little girls are so delicate.” “My wife can’t stand the smell either, so I can only smoke in front of you and the boys.” We’ve known each other for years, but really got close at a gathering last year. He was exactly my type. I heard he changed girlfriends frequently. I privately checked his medical report, confirmed he was clean, then bravely pursued him. Everyone said he was easy, but I chased him for half a year. Even mingled into his circle of bros, acted as a bro for half a year before catching him. But after dating for half a year, he said: “Better to be friends.” We broke up. Just because our bodies were compatible, we maintained a friends-with-benefits relationship for a year. Back then, I frowned and said countless times I hated the smell of smoke. He always passed the smoke to me while kissing, smiling wickedly: “Can’t quit, get used to it. Anyway… you’ll always be with me.” Now he’s willing to change for someone else. He buckled his watch, lips curving carelessly: “Don’t always cling to me, find a man to take over. This half box of ultra-thins, you guys can use.” I pinched the box, throat dry: “You said in bed just now… use it again tonight.” He flicked the ash, “Gotta save energy for tonight, pay the public grain (marital duty) at home. My wife is young, very clingy.” “Don’t know why you little girls have so much energy.” My brain buzzed, stuffed the half box of ultra-thins into my pocket. “Okay.” “I know.” Regret is definitely there. Originally felt our bodies were compatible, wanted to play with him for a while longer. But he has a fiancée. Can only let it go. 2 I’m probably the cleanest break among Julian’s group of female companions. He raised an eyebrow in surprise and handed me a card. “This is compensation, same old rules.” “I asked Sean to send you the blind date’s contact card, don’t forget the appointment.” Sean is his best friend. When I couldn’t reach him usually, I looked for Sean. I quietly accepted the card. He casually put out the cigarette. When he looked up, that usual laziness revealed a warning: “Don’t cause trouble in front of my wife, you know my methods.” Of course I know. The Cross family’s assets are intertwined, and the Cross family members are cold-blooded and ruthless. But I never said I would cause trouble. He likes that girl that much? I lowered my eyes: “Understood.” His expression relaxed, considered satisfied. After packing up, he left first. Half an hour later, I left. This was our tacit agreement. Even during our relationship, it was this process. Back at my place, my phone screen lit up. The contact card pushed by Sean arrived as promised. At the same time, an entertainment news popped up: [The eldest son of the Cross family appears publicly with his fiancée, Cross and Xu families will join forces] I clicked in. In the photo, Julian held the girl’s waist, his gaze following her every smile and frown. His eyes were extraordinarily focused, a gentleness I had never seen. Netizens commented one after another: [What is Young Master Cross staring at his fiancée’s mouth for? This eye contact is full of sexual tension, making the fiancée shy!] [A friend saw them at the banquet, said Young Master Cross didn’t look at his phone the whole time. Fiancée got dessert on her mouth, he wiped it directly with his hand, then licked it off naturally… Who understands, this natural intimacy!] [Did anyone notice the ring on his ring finger? It’s said he designed it himself, with the fiancée’s initials engraved inside. When did he ever wear these before?] [Exactly! Thought he was a scum before, now just think he’s charming. Turns out it’s not a character collapse, it’s just that all previous people couldn’t make the prodigal son turn back!] If netizens hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t even have noticed these details. Once I also asked Julian to wear couple rings with me. He scoffed “Childish, not getting married, what’s the point of wearing these fake things?” I said nothing. After all— These little couple interests were all learned from my ex-ex-boyfriend. I didn’t add the blind date. Even closed the webpage. Silenced the phone, fell asleep. Slept for a whole day. Woke up to see many messages on WeChat. Bestie sent many in shock: [Holy crap! Chloe, your white moonlight is back!] [Check WeChat quickly!!!] [Answer the phone!! He got off the plane!] My heart stopped. I wasn’t afraid maintaining a relationship with Julian for a year. But at this moment. I was really scared. 3 The white moonlight’s name is Ethan Perry, my ex-ex. We were college classmates. He was handsome, and number one in his major. I admire the strong. Not surprisingly. I was moved. And took action. But he was like a precise machine, only data and formulas in his life. I took classes with him when free, sat next to him for a whole month, he still didn’t know me. I could only use a little trick. That day, I threw my pen into his desk hole, gently poked his shoulder: “Classmate, my pen seems to be with you.” He turned his head, stared at me for three seconds, frowned slightly. “Last Tuesday, you also used this reason to ask me to get a pen, and last month on the 26th, 18th, 12th…” Even I didn’t remember. He could count them clearly. I was so happy. Later I added his WeChat, asked him out in various ways every day. Although always rejected, after all, I liked him, always had to beg him. When he agreed to date, it was exactly half a year. Before him, I was straight as an arrow, didn’t know how to chase people at all. Many techniques were figured out when dating him. As for chasing Julian, I had experience. The title “white moonlight” was also given by my bestie to tease me. Because Ethan was always demanding insatiably. Like a machine, knew where my limit was. I couldn’t stand his frequency. Those words of his surfaced in my mind again. “Chloe, don’t hide.” “Chloe, I know your limit is here, hold on for another two minutes and eighteen seconds.” “Broke the record again, Chloe, you are great.” He never stingy with praise, voice calm and approving. Often made me collapse. Later, he was selected by a top research institute abroad. I didn’t want to delay him, nor did I want to wait, so I proposed breaking up. Felt relieved in my heart. Then later, met Julian. He was also handsome. Heard his ex revealed he was the MAC type (make-up brand, implies short duration/for show), ten times with him felt nothing. No feeling? That’s perfect! That kind of thing is tiring. After dating him, I found it was true! I could even fall asleep in the process. He would even ask me “Am I awesome”. Of course awesome! In the two years dating Ethan, I never slept so comfortably! Thoughts retracted, I sped up packing. After all, Ethan didn’t agree to break up back then. Red eyes in front of me for the first time. To stabilize him, let him go abroad quickly. I promised him a fake breakup, promised to wait for him to return. Result as soon as he left. I changed my phone card and moved immediately. And met Julian. 4 I took clothes out of the closet while dialing my bestie. “How did you know he was coming back? I asked around, his project takes at least five years.” I stuffed clothes into the suitcase randomly, “It’s only been three years, why is he back?” Bestie: “I’m wondering too!” “Luckily my boyfriend is in that circle, mentioned it to me.” “But—I heard Ethan is now a tech upstart, momentum is strong…” I zipped up the suitcase, didn’t reply. “What are you doing? Rustling sounds.” “Packing,” I stood the suitcase up, “Hiding out for a few days.” Silence on the other end. “Avoid what? Can he eat you…” She paused. —Seems he really can. “Then you never thought about… getting back together with him?” I shivered in fear: “But I lied to him, and found Julian…” “So what? Who told him to be so fierce and tire you out! Besides, you are single now.” What does she know? Ethan, once he sets his mind on something, calculates all variables. I’ll avoid him first. When he confirms I’ve disappeared, maybe he’ll give up. Carrying the suitcase, I went to open the door— Closed again. A hand crossed over, firmly holding the door panel. Ethan lowered his eyes, looking at my suitcase. Voice smiling: “Chloe, where are you planning to go?” He opened the door, stepping into the room. The entryway suddenly seemed cramped. I stepped back. The door closed behind him. The cashmere coat carried cold air, but not as cold as his face. “Before returning, I calculated your possible reactions.” “Emotion told me, you would wait for me, like before.” “Reason told me, you would run, and would act within 1 hour of confirming my return.” “Looking at it now, reason won.”

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